


Untold Tales

by umakoo



Series: light in monochrome night [6]
Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Berserker Thor, Intersex Loki, Jötunn Loki, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of fics set in the world of my previous Jotun AU series <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/45738">Light in Monochrome Night</a>. Each chapter will be an individual story that takes place during the timeline of the original series or in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> I will add warnings and tags as they become relevant with new chapters. I would recommend reading the original series to get the most out of this and the future fics :)
> 
> Hugs and kisses to thorkizilla and schaudwen for beta!

**A/N: this chapter takes place sometime between Prelude and Hammer, Horn and Heart. Thor is about 20 and Loki is around 17-18 (in human years). Chapter rating: explicit. Warnings: none.**

 

Thor threw his hood over his head and wrapped his thick fur-trimmed cloak tighter around his shoulders as the air began to feel gradually colder. The valley at the foot of the great mountain wall that separated Midgard from the realm of giants was often much cooler than the rest of the land, and Thor’s breaths were already coming out in little white puffs. The autumn leaves that had only recently begun to fall from the trees were covered in a thin layer of frost, crumbling beneath his boots

He’d been traveling since daybreak, and it was slow going on foot, but he had left his goats in a nearby hamlet, for Jötunheim was full of perils, even for beasts as vicious as Tanngrisner and Tanngnjóstr. The entrance to the passage that the men of these lands called the Winter’s Throat had been heavily guarded, once upon a time, but all that remained of the old watch towers was a pile of rubble. The Jörnar had not posed any real threat to humans after the last Great War, and the men of the North now warred amongst themselves.

Thor paused at the entrance to make sure he hadn’t been followed, but the place had an ill reputation and few mortals ever ventured here. He glanced up, thinking of Heimdall’s all-seeing gaze and hoped the Gatekeeper’s eyes were turned elsewhere, for Thor was well aware of the laws he was breaking by sneaking into an enemy realm.

But as always, Loki was well worth the risk.

 

It was only noon, but the day began to grow ominously dark as Thor walked along the narrow path, and Sol’s light barely reached the bottom of the ravine. Thor stopped in the ruins of an old guardhouse to eat some of the food the villagers had given to him as a gift, but he continued to press on as soon as his belly was full. As he passed the hidden border between the realms, the frost on the ground began to spread up the jagged walls and soon turned to solid ice, and Thor had to watch his steps to keep from slipping and breaking his neck, for Mjöllnir was useless down here, the passage too narrow for flight and the summit of the mountain shrouded in low-hanging clouds that would not part even for Thor.

 

* * *

 

The trek through the Throat took hours, and it was late afternoon when Thor finally reached the other end, stepping right into the belly of winter. It appeared Skaði had returned home early from her husband’s hall, for Jötunheim was veiled in thick blankets of snow. The air prickled Thor’s cheeks and he knew he couldn’t linger out in the open for too long, for even his warmest cloak wasn’t enough to stave off the biting cold of Skaði’s winter storms.

He reached into his leather bag and took out the tiny ice whistle Loki had given to him as a gift the first time they parted ways in this very same spot. The melodic sound of the whistle carried through the air as bright as a songbird’s call, and Thor continued to blow into it until he felt his lips begin to stick to the icy surface.

The sky was clear enough for flight, at least for the moment, and Thor reached for Mjöllnir’s sturdy handle, happy to avoid trudging in the deep snow that often hid perilous pitfalls and other dangers. He flew low to seek out all the familiar landmarks Loki had pointed out to help him to navigate the icy wastes, remembering to keep the ocean to his right and to follow the winding line of the coast up north, towards the territory Loki had claimed as his own.

Thor landed briefly amongst a pack of snow lions to blow into his whistle once more, but he took off before the animals could be disturbed by his presence. He knew Loki couldn’t actually hear the sound, but Loki had explained how there was an enchantment on the whistle that let him know when Thor was using it. Thor sometimes played with it in his chambers back in Asgard, wondering if Loki could feel it over the vast distance that separated them and somehow know that Thor was thinking of him.

 

Loki lived in the southern parts of an area known as Glæsisvellir, which was mostly uninhabited and far from the royal capital Útgarðar, leaving Loki isolated from his family and peers. Thor’s own life in Asgard was one of great privilege and he was blessed with many good friends, and though he had yet to learn the reason for Loki’s exile, Thor knew Loki had lived alone for several decades. Loki rarely spoke of his family or what he had done to earn the scorn of his people, but Thor suspected it had something to do with the old völva that lived in the Ironwood in the eastern parts of the realm. Loki refused to speak about her, but Thor could tell she held some strange power over him, and he often wondered about the history Loki shared with her. She was much too old - and big - to be his lover, but Thor still felt a jab of jealous anger whenever he found out that Loki had visited her while Thor was realms away and unable to stop him from going.

 

One thing Thor did know was that the weather in Jötunheim was often unpredictable, and storms seemed to develop out of thin air. Loki had tried to teach Thor to read all the warning signs, but he was still taken by surprise by a sudden and fierce gust of wind that blew him off his trajectory. He was forced to land and found himself amidst large crumbling pillars of ice, scattered around in the shadow of a large mountain. The winds were soon followed by thick snowfall that made it difficult to tell where he was going. Thor didn’t want to risk getting lost and he chose to seek shelter by the nearest pillar, shielding his face with his hands as he pressed towards it.

 

* * *

 

The winds began to settle after a while, but the endless snowfall made it impossible to see more than a few meters ahead of him. Loki had told Thor the ruins had once been the foundations of one of the realm’s biggest and most important temples, but like most things in Jötunheim, the place was in shambles and Ymir knew what creatures now lurked in the crumbling ice. Thor was still huddled against the pillar when a dark shape on his right caught his eye, and he got up to his feet, Mjöllnir in his hand.

“Is someone there?”

There was no response, only the soft hum of falling snow, but Thor could see the same blurry grey shape now circling around him on all fours, moving from pillar to pillar. It was too fast to be an ice bear, and when Thor caught a glimpse of a long snout, he wondered if the creature was one of the direwolves that roamed the land in great numbers.

Whatever it was, the beast would have to find its meal elsewhere.

Thor began to spin his hammer around to gather enough momentum to attack the creature from above, and he was about to launch himself in the air when the wolf suddenly rose up to its hind legs and appeared tall like a man.

Thor stared in disbelief, his body still humming with restless energy, and small sparks of lightning crackled along the runes on Mjöllnir’s head as Thor pointed it at the strange creature. “Show yourself! The Mighty Thor does not fear-“

Thor’s threat was cut off by a large ball of snow hitting him square in the face. He sputtered and wiped at his face with his sheep skin mitten, so shocked by the sudden turn of events that he was caught off guard when another snowball came flying his way, this time from his left. It hit him below his chin and the feel of cold, wet snow sliding in through the collar of his tunic drew out an undignified yelp from Thor’s lips.

He was only a few decades into manhood, but thunder and lightning were forever at his beck and call and Thor let out a loud bellow, lifting Mjöllnir high above his head to channel his inner power into her uru head. He could summon a storm as easily as he could dismiss one, and harnessing a bolt of lightning was as natural to him as breathing. Snow storms were rare in Asgard and Thor had never attempted to command a blizzard before, but how hard could it be, he thought, as he held his hammer aloft and glared at the snowfall around him, forcing it to heed his silent command, adding a bit of lightning just for show.

The snowflakes diminished in size, suspended in the air for a moment before starting to fall gently on the ground. Thor lowered his hammer, finally able to see his surroundings. His assailant remained hidden, but Thor could hear quiet chuckling from behind one of the pillars, and his anger settled as quickly as it had risen, for he would recognize that mischievous laughter even in his sleep.

 

“Come out, little beast. I know you’re there,” he called out, and his lips quirked up as he added, “or does your fear of the Mighty Thor and his hammer make your feet tremble?”

 

A low growl erupted from behind the pillar to his left and another snowball flew past his head. Thor crossed his arms over his chest, scoffing loudly. “Your aim grows poor.” He hurried to the pillar and climbed on top of it, but his boots slipped on the icy surface and he got a mouthful of snow as he tumbled back down. “Ugh…”

 

“Have I not taught you how to balance your weight on ice? You have the grace of a frost hog.”

 

Thor whipped his head up and saw Loki, standing on the pillar he had attempted to climb, leaning against a tall spear. His face was hidden behind a white wolf mask, but there was no doubt it was Loki, for only he would compare Thor to a frost hog.

 

“You little trickster… I knew it was you!”

 

It had barely been six moons since his last visit to Jötunheim, but it felt like he hadn’t seen Loki for decades. Thor got up on his feet, watching as Loki pushed the wolf mask up to his brow, revealing his painted face, and Thor was surprised to see his thin lips were drawn into a tight line. It almost seemed like Loki was pouting at him. Thor gave a hesitant smile and held out his arms, ready to help Loki down from the pillar, but Loki continued to glare at him from his high perch, his red eyes narrowed.

He pointed the sharp end of his spear at Thor in an accusing manner. “You’re late,” he said, voice terse. “You said you would return for my name day, which was three moons ago.”

Thor felt a jab of guilt as he realized he had indeed broken his promise, but it had been impossible for him to come until now. The carefree days of his boyhood were behind him, and Thor had an ever-growing list of responsibilities he could not escape even if he wanted to. He had begun to train among the Einherjar when he came of age, and Tyr demanded a lot from him, for Thor would one day command Asgard’s armies alongside the old war god. But knowing the art of battle was not enough for a prince of Asgard, and Thor’s afternoons were often spent at political meetings with his father as Odin prepared Thor for his future on the throne.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get away from my duties until now… I wanted to come, but-”

Loki cut him off, his mouth still drawn to a tight line. “I waited for you at the border for three whole days, and when you didn’t come, I… I thought you had fallen in an ice pit or something.”

Thor could hear the slight tremble in Loki’s voice, and he realized he had been worried for Thor. The thought sent a burst of warmth into his belly, and he felt oddly touched. Loki continued to glare at him, worrying his bottom lip with his sharp teeth.

“You can toss another snowball at me if you wish,” Thor offered, but he knew there was an even better way to soothe Loki’s ire. “Or you could come down and see the presents I brought for you.”

Thor smiled at the way Loki’s eyes brightened as they flicked to the leather satchel that hung around Thor’s shoulder. He held out his arms once more, but Loki ignored the gesture and jumped down with a graceful little thump.

“It better not be another flea-ridden bilgesnipe hide,” Loki grumbled.

Thor reached for his bag, but he had barely managed to open the leather strap when Loki was suddenly pushing into his arms and nosing at the crook of Thor’s neck. “What about your gift?” Thor chuckled, but Loki ignored him, breathing in the smell of Asgard's golden heat that Thor had carried with him in his furs.

Thor felt another burst of warmth at the unexpected show of affection, and he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around Loki’s lithe frame. He buried his own nose in the black mass of Loki’s hair and dropped a soft kiss between his curved horns.

“I have missed you.”

Loki gave no reply, but he flicked his tongue against the skin below Thor’s jaw and gave it a soft lick before leaning back from the embrace. He pulled down his wolf mask and give Thor’s chest a playful shove. “Did I frighten you?” 

Thor scoffed, lifting Loki’s mask to peek under it. “Hardly.”

“You must have thought I was a direwolf! Admit it,” Loki laughed, and Thor shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll do no such thing.”

Loki pushed the mask up to his brow, his blue lips curved up in a wry little smile. He leaned in until the tip of his nose brushed Thor’s chin. “Then what  _will_  you do?” he asked, letting out a happy little squeal when Thor grabbed his hips and picked Loki up in his arms.

“I will take you home and ravish you,” Thor growled, and he gave Loki’s bare neck a series of playful bites as Mjöllnir carried them up to the sky.

 

* * *

 

Despite Thor’s promise of ravishment, it was Loki who nuzzled at Thor’s neck and rubbed against his hip as they flew over snow-clad forests and frozen rivers. He jumped down from Thor’s arms as soon as their feet touched the ground by the frozen waterfall that hid Loki’s little home, and he grabbed Thor’s hand, tugging on it insistently to lead him inside. They paused at the entrance long enough for Loki to remove the wards he had placed on it to keep out unwanted visitors, but Thor barely had time to take in his surroundings when he found himself being pushed toward the back of the cave to a soft pile of furs.

 “So I take it that you missed me too?” Thor laughed when Loki shoved him down on the makeshift bed and climbed on top of him, his hands already pushing Thor’s tunic aside to reveal the lacing of his breeches.

 “I did miss  _this_ ,” Loki smirked as he pressed the heel of his palm against the half-hard length in Thor’s pants. He continued to rub Thor through his breeches with one hand and used the other to unfasten the fur loincloth around his own hips, casting it aside as soon as it came undone. Thor helped Loki to lower the seal skin breeches he wore underneath the loincloth, and he had barely managed to expose his ass when Loki took hold of his hand and guided it between his thighs.

“Greedy little thing,” Thor hummed, but no more words were exchanged when he felt the wet heat of Loki’s quim around his own eager fingers.

Loki’s eyes fell closed and his breaths came out in stuttering little sighs when Thor began to rub along his plump folds, parting them gently and gathering some of the slick on his fingers before dipping inside. Loki arched his back and rolled his hips into Thor’s hand as he hurried to undo the lacing on Thor's pants. Thor was not yet fully hard, but Loki didn’t appear to have enough patience to wait, and he shuffled up in Thor’s lap, spreading his thighs as much as his breeches would allow him. Thor barely had time to remove his fingers when Loki was already sinking down on his prick, clamping around him to keep Thor from slipping out.

“Norns, Loki…” Thor groaned, and he was hard so fast that his vision threatened to blur as his blood rushed down between his thighs. He grabbed hold of Loki’s hips to anchor himself to something as Loki began to move in his lap, panting from the sheer feeling of having Thor inside him. Thor watched the way his mouth hung open, his eyes closed in sheer pleasure, and he thrust up into Loki’s cunt, deep and hard, filling him with his girth. “You  _have_  missed this,” Thor murmured, a hint of smugness in his voice, but the look in his eyes was fond. “Nothing sates you the way I do.”

Loki snarled, scratching his sharp black nails against Thor’s tunic as he threw his head back and began to bounce in Thor’s lap, setting up an almost frantic pace. His scarlet eyes raked over Thor’s body, taking in the newly developed muscles as his hands felt out the shape of Thor’s broadening chest, visible even through the woolen tunic. They were not too far apart in years, but parts of Loki’s body still clung to boyhood, for food in Jötunheim was scarce, and Loki was slower to develop due to his constant malnourishment, though Thor had taken note of the way Loki’s hips had begun to take a slightly fuller shape over the past few years while his face was growing more angular, and it wouldn’t be long before he would catch up with Thor.

  

Loki continued to bounce in Thor’s lap, and his sudden release took both of them by surprise. He blinked, looking slightly dazed as his cunt throbbed out a rush of wetness where their bodies were joined. Loki lowered his eyes, seemingly embarrassed by his lack of control, but Thor gave him a soft smile and stilled his hips to give Loki a moment to recover. They exchanged a few languid kisses and Thor used the opportunity to reach between their thighs where Loki's prick was still trapped inside the fur breeches, hard and in need of release. Loki gave Thor’s full bottom lip a demanding little nip with his sharp fangs, thrusting into Thor’s fist, and Thor’s fingers were soon coated in wet spill as Loki came once more. Thor pulled his hand back, and watched as Loki grabbed hold of his wrist, guiding his fingers up to his lips to lick the traces of white into his mouth. Thor groaned at the sight, thrusting up into Loki’s slick passage, and he shoved his fingers deeper into Loki’s greedy mouth as his own pleasure peaked and he spilled his seed in Loki’s quim.

 

They settled down on the furs, and Thor was satisfied for the moment, but Loki continued to grind against his thigh, spinning his long, windswept braid around his fingers, watching Thor expectantly.

“Will my fingers do?” Thor offered, holding up three fingers and watching as Loki took hold of his hand and slipped them in his mouth once more.

“If you know how to use them…” Loki grinned, releasing each digit with a wet pop.

Thor took it for the challenge it was meant to be, and his mouth split into a wolfish smile as he lowered his hand between Loki’s thighs, wasting no time as he sank his fingers inside, feeling traces of his own spill begin to leak out when he spread his digits and moved them against the soft inner walls of Loki’s passage.

They had known each other for less than a decade, but Thor knew how to please Loki almost as well as he knew how to handle Mjöllnir. That wasn’t to say that there hadn’t been a few bumps along the way, for neither of them had much patience and Loki was often quick to slap Thor’s hands away if he did not succeed on the first try, which would most often lead to Thor losing his temper and Loki calling him names until Thor would come back to bed and put an end to the wicked words with kisses.

Thor curved his fingers to seek out the sensitive spot inside Loki, using his thumb on the small nub at the peak of Loki’s cleft, knowing it would erase any doubts Loki pretended to have about Thor’s prowess in bed. He slipped his other hand under Loki’s fur vest in search of his nipples, frowning as he took note of the way Loki’s ribs protruded against his palm. He wished he could take Loki with him to Asgard’s greatest banquet halls and feed him the best foods the realms had to offer, fatten him up and spoil him rotten with succulent meats, sweet cobblers and tasty breads fresh from the oven.

But would Loki even want to come? And would Asgard ever welcome the son of a hated enemy in their mead halls?

Thor’s thoughts were interrupted when Loki began to arch off the furs, clamping his lean thighs around Thor's wrist to fuck himself on the blunt digits, keening softly as he came apart one more time.

 

They took a moment to undress and Loki lit a small fire in the cooking pit, knowing how the cold affected Thor. He heated a bowl of water and they used it to wash their bodies before slipping underneath the furs. Loki settled into Thor’s arms and Thor began to trace the shape of his cheekbone with his thumb, following the dark blue lines of paint down to his pointed chin.

“I was impressed with the way you vanquished the snow storm earlier,” Loki said, leaning into the touch, his own hands playing with Thor’s short warrior braid. “Only the most powerful Jötnar have the skill to bend Jötunheim’s elements to their will.”

“Storms have always heeded my call. I suppose a blizzard is no different from a bit of thunder and rain,” Thor said, perhaps a little too smugly, for he could see the flash of ire in the deep red of Loki’s eyes. “I’m certain  _you_  could find a way to do it if you wished it,” Thor said, clasping the back of Loki’s neck fondly, and the hint of anger in Loki’s eyes melted away at the praise.

 

They fell quiet and exhaustion was slowly beginning to settle into Thor’s body as the steady sound of Loki’s breaths in his ear began to lull him to sleep. When he awoke a few hours later, the cave was illuminated with a red glow from the moon that had begun its climb up the night sky, its light filtering through the frozen waterfall. Loki was no longer in his arms, but Thor felt a weight against his left foot and when he glanced down, he saw Loki sitting on top of the furs, going through the contents of Thor's leather bag. He was completely naked, but his braid had come undone and his long hair cascaded over his back like a cloth of black silk.

There were small magelights floating above their heads, and Thor glanced up to watch their slow dance. Being inside Loki’s little hideout behind the waterfall still felt like a privilege, for it had taken a lot of stubborn persuading before Loki had agreed to take Thor to his home. Before that they had always slept in the little ice holes Loki shaped with his seiðr, and Thor knew that anyone who wanted to survive in this realm had to learn to be on their guard, but he had eventually grown a little offended whenever Loki refused to tell him where he truly lived. As he watched Loki going through his bag, completely naked and unaware that Thor was even awake, he realized just how much Loki had come to trust him.

 

Thor kept quiet and continued to watch as Loki delved into the bag, and when most of the contents were lying scattered on the furs, Loki finally pulled out the small bundle Thor had hidden carefully in the bottom of the bag to keep it safe from the cold. Loki opened it and gave one of Iðunn’s golden apples a suspicious sniff.

“I see you have discovered my gift.”

Loki spun around, looking a little embarrassed at having been caught going through Thor’s belongings without permission, but Thor gave a small nod to show him that he was not angry about Loki’s curiosity.

Loki brought the apple up to his face and gave it a tentative lick. “What are these?”

“You do not have apples in Jötunheim?”

“Apples?” Loki repeated. “Can you eat them?”

Thor nodded, and Loki wasted no time as he sank his teeth into the succulent fruit, chewing slowly, almost carefully, until the sweet taste finally registered in his mouth and his red eyes went almost comically wide.

“Do you like the way it tastes?”

“It’s… It’s delicious,” Loki gasped, his cheeks so full of apple that his voice came out hilariously muffled. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.” He began to devour the fruit, swallowing the core and the seeds with it. “It’s so sweet and soft in my mouth!”

Thor laughed and crawled closer to steal a small taste from Loki’s lips, feeling a burst of energy as soon as the flavor of the magical fruit hit his tongue. “Apples are indeed sweet, but these are no ordinary apples. These come from Lady Iðunn’s private gardens.”

Loki’s mouth fell open as he stared at the two remaining apples in his lap. “You- you brought me the famous Golden Apples the Æsir eat to live for an eternity?” he gasped, staring at Thor in disbelief, for Thor had told him tales of Iðunn’s orchards and how even the sweetest mead didn’t compare to her golden apples.

“I don’t know about immortality,” Thor said, “but they do cure many ailments and nourish the body and soul in ways that even our most skilled healers cannot match. Only Lady Iðunn knows their secret and she guards it well. Getting my hands on these was no easy feat,” Thor laughed. "I had to climb over the impossibly high wall that surrounds her orchards in the middle of the witching hour and fight off the giant bear that guards the apples like a pot of honey before I even reached the damned fruits."

“You went to such efforts… only to give them away? To _a Jötunn_?” Loki was suddenly reluctant to eat the two remaining apples, knowing how valuable the magic fruits were. He cradled them to his chest as if they truly were made of gold.

“I would fetch you every apple in her garden if it was in my power to do so,” Thor declared, and if he sounded like a lovesick fool, it was simply because he felt like one too; he truly would do anything to make Loki happy. “Or is there something else you would rather have?”

Loki stared at the apples in his hands and his tongue flicked out to taste the syrupy sweetness that still lingered on his lips. He looked up slowly, dropping the apples from his hands and Thor watched as they disappeared into the furs. “Aye, there is  _one thing_  I would rather have,” Loki murmured, and Thor was still wondering what could possibly bring Loki more joy than Iðunn’s magical apples when his lips were claimed in a tender kiss. Loki sank his fingers into Thor’s hair, tugging on his plait as his tongue continued to explore Thor’s mouth.

“Well? Are you going to tell me what it is?” Thor asked when they pulled apart for breath, “what is better than Iðunn’s apples?”

“Oaf…” Loki sighed, rolling his eyes, but there was no real heat in his insult, “ _what do you think_?” he huffed, planting another kiss to Thor's lips.

“ _Oh._ ”


	2. A Special Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set right after the events of Hammer, Horn and Heart. Loki's injuries have healed and he and Thor have their first dinner together. Thor's dessert, however, is not something you find on the menu...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksies to thorkizilla and schaudwen for looking this over <3

**Fill rating: explicit. Warnings: cunnilingus. Words: 4,792.**

 

“You're fussing,” Loki grumbled, yanking his hand back from Thor's hold and giving his shoulder a light shove to regain his personal space. ”I'm quite fine, as I keep telling you.”

 

Despite his words, Loki's steps were slow, and snapping at Thor made the stub of his recently severed horn throb with phantom pain. His hand shot up to his brow before he could stop himself and Thor’s face twisted with the same insufferable look of worry he had worn since Loki had woken up. Loki quickly shoved his hand in the pocket of his tunic, glaring at Thor over his shoulder, daring him to say something. Thor’s mouth drew into a tight line, but he kept quiet and fell back a few steps to give Loki more space.

 

This was the first time Loki had left Thor's bed chamber since he woke up almost three weeks ago, for the damned old healer had insisted that Loki remained in bed until the bruising around his forehead and his lower back had faded away. Thor’s chambers did not lack in comfort, but Loki was eager to see the rest of Bilskirnir, not to mention the surrounding lands Thor had so vividly described in his countless stories.

 

They descended a broad flight of stairs that led away from Thor's personal quarters until they reached a long, airy corridor where the evening sun shone through the high windows and open shutters in the ceiling. Thor had spent over a decade building his own hall, and the final beams and rafters had been set in place only recently. The air still smelt of freshly cut timber and wet tar, and Loki, though unused to the earthy scents, found them most pleasing.

 

“This is called the Hall of Achievements,” Thor said, trailing after Loki and keeping his steps slow to give them time to admire the colorful shields and weapons displayed on the thick timber walls.

 

There were also skulls, giant claws and shimmering scales on the walls, and beautiful tapestries with pictures of coiling serpents and other great beasts woven into the cloths, and Loki recognized the hammer-wielding hero in all of them. Thor watched his mementos with a fond glint in his eyes and Loki understood that each item held a memory of adolescent adventures and exciting afternoons spent battling ogres and water snakes.

 

As he studied the tapestries and the skulls of various beasts with their dead, sneering smiles, Loki was suddenly aware of the life Thor had led here on Asgard for centuries, so distant and separate from Loki’s own life in Jötunheimr. Thor had often told him tales of his adventures, but Loki had never dared to dream he might one day be part of that world himself. Would his own deeds ever be woven into tapestries to be displayed in Bilskirnir’s grand halls, Loki wondered, brushing his fingers against the colorful yarn that weaved to form a head of golden hair.

 

Would he even find a home in this beautiful but strange realm? The first weeks had been full of surprises, most of them positive, but there were more than a few things Loki struggled to adjust to. Thor’s bed, for example, felt far too soft and flat for his liking, and Loki was often tempted to take some of the bear skins that warmed their feet on the floors and build himself a small nest to sleep in.

 

The food he was served several times a day was so soft here that Loki felt it almost melted in his mouth and there was no need for him to tear through viscous meats with his sharp fangs, which made him fear they would eventually grow dull and useless. Loki’s eyes were still adjusting to the sheer brightness of Sol’s light, for there was no heavy cover of clouds up in the sky over Asgard to filter her rays, and the nights in this realm were full of strange noises that made him startle awake at least once every night.

 

Birds had always been a rare sight in Jötunheimr in the parts where Loki had made his home, but the trees of Asgard were full of them, their constant chirping filling their rooms through open windows. A family of swallows had made a nest under the eaves above Thor’s bedroom window, and Loki found their screaming to be infuriating. He had used a simple spell to silence the little beasts, but Thor, who insisted they were singing, had become so glum that Loki had been forced to undo his magic and let the birds keep on screaming.

 

 

They left the display of mementos behind them and Thor led them to the western wing of the grand building that housed the kitchens, or so Loki gathered from the delicious smell that reached his nostrils as they stepped into one of the many banquet halls. The servants were still busy setting the long table, carrying steaming plates and jars of wine and ale into the room. Loki's mouth watered as he caught sight of the succulent ham that two of the servants carried above their heads on a silver plate. He licked his lips, his stomach growling as if he hadn't eaten in a decade.

 

His hunger made him forget all else, including the slight limp in his steps, and Loki hurried to the table to take a seat in the large, ornate wooden chair at the head, for it was closest to the ham and the bowls full of glazed pears and apple tarts.

 

The moment his rump hit the seat of the chair, the two servants standing nearby froze to stare at Loki with shocked expressions on their pale little faces.

 

“What?” Loki asked, aware of the odd looks, his own eyes narrowing into red slits. “What is it?”

 

The servants said nothing, but they turned their confused gazes to Thor as he joined Loki at the table.

 

Loki glared at the servants, thinking their strange behavior was a reaction to seeing a Jötunn in their midst, but his scowl melted away when he realized that he was sitting at the head of the table in a seat that must have belong to the master of Bilskirnir.

 

Loki jerked his head up to look at Thor, ready to get up, but Thor laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, pushing Loki back down into the seat.

 

“You shall sit wherever you wish, Loki,” Thor smiled, taking the seat on his right and motioning for the servants to fill his drinking horn with ale. “What is mine is also yours now.”

 

Loki relaxed and leaned back against the high back of the chair. He turned his eyes to the servants and arched his brows at them, the corners of his mouth dimpling with a smug little smile.

 

“Shall I pour you a drink, my lord?” one of the servants asked, holding a jar of wine in one hand and a pitcher of ale in the other.

 

For a moment, Loki simply stared, for it had been a long time since anyone had asked for his permission or willingly done his bidding. The servant repeated his question, and Thor gave a reassuring nod when Loki glanced his way.

 

“This is your home now. My servants are yours to command.”

 

To be able to give out an order, even as simple as telling someone to fill his goblet with wine, was a privilege he hadn’t possessed since his banishment so many years ago, and Loki shivered with a sudden and heady rush of power.

 

Loki’s eyes lit up and he grabbed hold of the silver goblet next to his plate, pushing it toward the servant. The young man avoided making eye contact with Loki, out of respect or perhaps out of fear, Loki did not know, but something about the meek display pleased him. The lad was too small for an Áss and too fair of face to be a dwarf, and Loki wondered if he was one of Thor’s beloved Midgardians.

 

"Pour me some wine, boy,” Loki ordered, unable to hide his surprise when the servant did as he was told and began to fill his goblet with a slight tremble in his small hands.

 

“Thank you, Eirik, you may go,” Thor said when Loki's goblet was full, his voice almost familial, and Loki briefly wondered if he was expected to show similar kindness with their little mortal servants. The young lad gave his master a polite nod before retreating to the sidelines to wait until he was needed again.

 

Loki brought the goblet to his lips and dipped his tongue into the wine, sampling the taste and finding it most agreeable. He drank deeply, emptying the whole glass in one single pull, wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. The table was large enough for a host of men and there was enough food to feed at least a dozen hungry warriors. Loki couldn't remember seeing such abundance of food even as a child when he still had a place at Laufey's court, and he wondered if Thor was expecting company.

 

“Is someone joining us?”

 

Thor shook his head, seemingly confused by the question, and Loki’s eyes widened with mild shock as he realized the feast before him was nothing more than a small family dinner.

 

“I thought you'd enjoy some privacy, this being our first proper dinner together,” Thor explained, and Loki was suddenly thankful, for the thought of strange eyes staring at him down the length of the table made him uncomfortable. He'd barely left their private rooms, but Loki could already guess that his kind were not a common sight in this realm.

 

They began to eat in companionable silence while a young bard played her flute for them, but the music grew distant in Loki’s ears and he was soon overcome with a hunger born out of sheer greed for everything laid out before him. The need and desire to taste everything all at once was so overwhelming that Loki quickly lost what little shred of self-control he had and he began to fill his plate with everything his hands could reach, taking no more than a bite or two of each item before moving on to the next delicious treat.

 

Thor watched him fondly over the rim of his drinking horn, always happy to see Loki enjoy himself, but his brow began to crease with worry when Loki's greed eventually turned against him and he began to cough, his mouth so full that it was difficult to draw breath.

 

“Easy,” Thor murmured, leaning closer to take Loki's hand in his own, forcing him to drop the drumstick he'd been about to sink he's teeth into. “The food is not going anywhere. You don't have to eat everything all at once.” He refilled Loki’s goblet with more wine and put it in his hand, urging Loki to take a drink.

 

Loki gave the greasy drumstick a longing look, but decided to heed Thor’s words. He cleared his throat and slumped against the high back of his chair, sipping on his fruity drink as he let his eyes drift across the vast room, taking in the beautifully carved pillars and the long, blood red banners that hung from the rafters, blowing gently in the breeze that drifted in through the small windows in the high ceiling.

 

Though Thor no longer felt the need to boast as much as he did when they first met, both of them young and eager to impress the other in their own ways, Loki knew that Thor was a man who took great pride in his achievements. He did not hide or downplay the winning hand the Norns had dealt him in this life, and though he harbored a strange fondness and respect for lesser creatures, Thor was still the heir to the throne of thrones and his hall with its many sloping roofs and tall pillars was built on the highest hilltop in Thrúndheimr, his great deeds made into songs and his victories celebrated and displayed for all to see. Loki thought of the berserker rage he had witnessed in the Ironwood, how Thor had been unstoppable, like a force of nature with no mercy for anyone, be they friend or foe. Knowing that the same power slept deep inside Thor even now was a heady thought, one that set Loki’s blood ablaze. He grinned into his cup, watching Thor with darkening eyes, lust stirring in his loins for the first time since his injury.

 

“I wish to retire,” Loki murmured, suddenly eager for the privacy of their rooms.

 

Thor looked up from his plate where a steaming chunk of roasted lamb laid waiting for his knife and fork. “Retire?  _Now?_ ”

 

“Mmm” Loki lifted his right leg to touch the tip of his boot to Thor’s calf, moving his foot up along the strong muscles. Thor dropped his fork when the sole of Loki’s boot pressed against the juncture between his thigh and groin and Loki chuckled into his cup of wine. “Will you take me back to our chambers?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki slumped into a large velvet armchair by the fire one of the servants had lit before their arrival, the big dinner making him feel drowsy despite the desire singing in his blood. He perked up when large, warm hands settled on his shoulders, and he watched as Thor circled around him and came to kneel between Loki's feet, nudging his thighs apart to make room for his bulk.

 

“You were in such a hurry to leave that I missed my dessert,” Thor complained, his lips curved down in a mock pout.

 

He cupped Loki's face in his hands and leaned in to drop a kiss to his brow, and Loki found himself leaning into Thor's touch, his mouth curving up playfully as he replied, “Perhaps I can offer you a different kind of treat…”

 

"Oh? Did you have something specific in mind?” Thor did not wait for an answer as he claimed Loki's mouth in a kiss that was as hungry as the hands stroking up and down Loki’s narrow flanks, slipping underneath the tunic to play with his breasts where round softness still lingered from his recent heat.

 

Loki parted his lips to offer himself to Thor completely, and Thor continued to plunder his mouth while his fingers massaged Loki's tiny mounds and teased his nipples into hard peaks. “Thor… too much,” Loki gasped when the caressing touches on his breasts were starting to become overwhelming, and Thor lowered his hand down between Loki’s thighs to cup him through his breeches, his palm a pleasant weight against Loki’s stirring arousal. When they finally parted for air, Loki's lips were swollen and tingling from the scratch of Thor's beard, and he discovered he had missed the sting and burn more than he realized.

 

He watched with hooded eyes as Thor leaned back to take hold of Loki's hips, arranging his body in the chair in a way that left his ass on the edge of the soft cushion. He reached down to hitch Loki's tunic up and did a quick job of undoing the laces of his breeches, and once the knots were undone, Loki lifted his ass enough to push the trousers down his long legs as Thor worked on pulling off his suede boots.

 

Thor remained fully dressed while Loki was completely bare and displayed for his piercingly blue gaze. Loki brushed his fingers through Thor's braided hair in anticipation, his lower lip caught between his teeth as his cock hardened between his thighs, rising up in a wordless invitation right before their eyes. Thor's mouth split into a hungry smile and he grabbed hold of Loki's naked thighs, lifting each leg on the broad arm rests of the chair until all of Loki was on display for his greedy gaze.

 

"I believe I'm ready for  my treat,” Thor smirked, his voice a husky rumble that made the coils of arousal tighten in Loki’s belly.

 

“Then come and have a taste,” Loki sighed, eager for Thor’s mouth, his hands, _everything_. He lifted his hips to offer himself to Thor, keening when he felt thick fingers reach between his thighs and run along his slit, parting the folds to reveal the pink, sensitive inner flesh. Loki hummed, reclining against the cushions like a spoiled cat as Thor began to play with his quim, rubbing the cleft and reaching up to pump his cock a few times before spreading him even wider to reach deep inside with two calloused fingers.

 

"Oh, that's it," Loki moaned softly, his head lolling from side to side as Thor fucked him with his fingers, the Thunderer’s gaze on his most private place so heated that Loki couldn’t help but shiver under such intense scrutiny. He continued to stroke his own fingers through Thor’s hair, guiding him closer to breathe in the scent of Loki's pleasure, which proved to be as tempting as ever, for Loki soon felt Thor's mouth on his cunt, his broad tongue slipping out for a taste.

 

Thor lavished the wet folds with generous licks, grunting happily as the taste of Loki's arousal spread on his tongue. "Touch yourself,” he breathed between licks, taking one of Loki’s hands in his own to guide it to the hard cock that curved towards Loki's navel.

 

Loki took himself in his hand and began to stroke, using his fingers to gather the drops of fluid beading at the tip and spreading them along the curve of his shaft to make the movement of his hand smoother. His fingers slipped down to his clit on a downward stroke only to have Thor brush them away, but Loki had no time to express his disappointment, for he soon felt Thor's mouth close around the hood of the swollen nub, sucking and licking until Loki’s entire body was lifting up from the chair.

 

Thor brought both of his hands up to press them against Loki's inner thighs, holding him still and spreading him even wider as he continued to eat him out like Loki truly were the sweetest of desserts. Thor's tongue breached his entrance and licked inside, his face wet with Loki's slick which kept leaking out more and more copiously as Thor picked up his speed and worked his tongue deeper, his rough fingers digging into the supple flesh of Loki’s inner thighs.

 

"Oh, Norns, but you are good at this,” Loki panted, one hand working on his prick while the other gripped Thor's hair, his hips undulating and rolling into Thor's tongue as it dipped in and out of the wet opening. His long toes curved against the soles of his feet every time he felt his inner muscles clench in need of something  _bigger,_ and Loki was vaguely aware that one of Thor's hands was gone from his thigh  when he heard the slick sounds coming from between Thor's legs. He realized that Thor had begun jerk himself off as he continued to feast on Loki's quim and the knowledge that pleasuring Loki was so enjoyable for Thor never failed to make Loki shiver with desire, pushing him closer to the edge of his first release. He yanked on Thor's hair gently, but strong enough to get his attention, and Thor pulled back to look up at Loki. His cheeks were ruddy and his entire face glistened with Loki's slick, his swollen mouth hanging open as he panted for air.

 

“You wish for something else?”

 

Loki smiled but said nothing as he took a gentle hold of Thor's jaw, urging him to part his lips wider. He gave his hard prick another stroke and guided it into Thor's willing mouth, pressing the tip against the soft, wet tongue. He reached up to massage the root of his right horn as he continued to jerk himself off with short, hurried strokes, so close to the edge now. His head lolled back into the soft cushions, the pleasure of his own touch on the ribbed surface of his horn almost intoxicating, and it only took a few more tugs until his prick was spilling its release. Loki moaned as his seed landed on Thor's tongue, and Thor grinned up at him like the cat that got the cream as he licked his lips and gave the glistening tip of Loki's cock a soft kiss before lowering his face and returning to his earlier treat.

 

With half of his desire now sated, Loki sank lower into the cushioning, the muscles in his thighs starting to ache from the stretch. Thor must have noticed his discomfort, for he moved Loki’s legs to rest on the solid mass of his broad shoulders, and Loki was left breathless as Thor began to fuck him with his tongue and three blunt digits. Loki could feel his second release drawing closer, and the moment Thor’s lips closed around his clit, his pleasure peaked, rendering him into a shuddering mess. He pulsed around Thor's fingers, feeling himself drift into a pleasant lull as he panted for breath, his hips still twitching up against Thor’s mouth and hand as they wrung his release out of him.

 

Loki watched Thor withdraw his fingers and get up on his feet. His breeches were undone and his prick hung heavily between his leather clad thighs. He pushed Loki’s legs wide once more as he leaned one hand against the back of the chair, looming over Loki with his great bulk. He wrapped his fingers around his erection and pointed the fat head at Loki's cunt as he continued to jerk himself off, so large and imposing in the shadows of the firelight.

 

“Can I spill on you?” Thor panted, his eyes pleading and voice rough with the familiar desperation that told Loki he was drawing closer to an orgasm.

 

Loki glanced up through dark lashes and gave Thor a mischievous little smile, guiding his hand between his thighs to spread the dark blue lips of his quim open, knowing the effect such wanton display would have on Thor.

 

“Do it,” Loki sighed as Thor let out a grunt, his release spilling out and landing all over Loki's pink inner lips with a wet patter.

 

But Thor was not done yet. He grabbed hold of Loki's left thigh to lift his arse higher, bending his knees enough to shove his prick inside Loki's warm passage, and Loki could feel the rest of Thor’s seed pulsing deep into his cunt. He savored the sensation, for this was the first time he had allowed Thor to spill inside him since his heat had made such intimacy impossible.

 

Loki let out a satisfied hum and twined his arms around Thor's shoulders to rub their noses together. “Did you enjoy your dessert?”

 

Thor smiled, taking Loki’s hands in his own, entwining their fingers. “There is no pastry or tart in all the realms that compares to the taste of your pleasure,” he declared in the easy happiness of his after-glow.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki was still in high spirits when they had their evening tea on the terrace half an hour later, his stomach pleasantly full and his desires sated. There was a salty, cool breeze blowing from the coast of Thrúndheim and it played with Loki's long black tresses, waving them about his face like a lover’s caress. He had changed into one of Thor's old night shirts and the garment, several sizes too big, hung on him like a blanket, but Loki had yet to receive clothes that fit him and he was forced to wear the few garments Thor had left from his boyhood years.

 

“Now that you've finally mended, we can send for the royal tailor,” Thor said, breathing in a deep puff of smoke from his intricately carved pipe, “you'll wear the finest fabrics Asgard has to offer.”

 

Loki's eyes lit up as he pictured himself in soft, velvety tunics and breeches made of exquisite furs instead of the mangy old hides he'd worn in Jötunheim, pulled off the backs of whatever beasts he’d managed to slay.

 

"Will you also take me on a tour of the realm like you promised? I wish to see everything!”

 

“Aye, aye,” Thor laughed. “We’ll visit the great market plazas in the heart of Asgard, where merchants from all across Yggdrasil come to sell their goods. And there is no sight in all the realms that rivals the beauty of Mother's gardens in Fensalir. We'll have tea with her as soon as we get you fitted for new clothes.”

 

As far as he knew, Loki had not met the Queen, but oddly enough had memories of her. They were foggy like half-forgotten dreams, still images and sensations of soft, comforting hands and kind eyes, blue like Thor’s. He wondered if the Allmother had aided in his healing, for he could still feel the warmth of ancient and strong seiðr in his veins.

 

“And we  _must_  visit the royal libraries!” Thor's eyes were suddenly full of excitement and he stood up to pace around the small terrace, a cloud of smoke trailing after him. “I admit that I have always preferred a good sword fight or a hunt over a book, but there are thousands of tomes and scrolls in our libraries, countless tales of great battles and legendary heroes from all the realms of the Tree. I know you’ll love them, Loki.”

 

Loki's face darkened at Thor's words, his cheeks flushing a darker shade of blue with sudden embarrassment.

 

“Loki? Is something wrong? Did I say something?”

 

Loki dropped his gaze down to his feet, his mouth drawing in to a tight line, and his cheeks continued to burn with shame as Thor stepped closer and cupped Loki's chin to lift his face.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Nothing, you oaf,” Loki spat, looking away once more to hide his shame. He knew it wasn't Thor's fault, but surely he had to know, or at least guess that Loki couldn’t…

 

Thor shook his head, confusion and concern warring on his face. “You don’t wish to go to the library with me? Is that it?” His question seemed to bring forth a sudden realization and Thor’s eyes widened when he understood the reason for Loki’s sudden shame. He laid a gentle hand on Loki's shoulder, urging him to turn around until they were facing each other once more.

 

“You cannot read?” Thor asked softly. Loki worried his bottom lip between his teeth almost hard enough to pierce the skin, but his silence was answer enough. “Oh, Loki, that's nothing to be upset about.”

 

Loki’s face snapped up and his eyes flashed deep crimson. “Oh no? I'm certain even the servants here know how to read... They'll laugh themselves silly when word gets out that they serve an illiterate master."

 

"Loki..."

 

"I do not need your pity,” Loki snarled, though he regretted his angry tone when he saw the hurt look that passed over Thor’s features.

 

“I do not pity you. I’m merely telling you that not being able to read is not something you should be ashamed of, especially when it can be so easily remedied.”

 

Loki’s anger began to settle, though the spots of color on his cheeks were slower to fade.

 

"You were never taught the runes?" Thor asked.

 

Loki shook his head. “Jötnar have never been in the habit of recording their tales and histories in written word, and the few tomes we had were lost in the war. The only runes I can read have to do with seiðr.” He left out the part about Angrboða being the one to teach him, knowing her name was the last thing Thor would want to hear.

 

Thor pulled Loki into his arms and brushed his thumb against the sharp cut of his cheekbone. “I'll teach you to read, just the way you taught me how to make sense of the constellations to make sure I'll never get lost.”

 

Loki huffed, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “Well, you did almost freeze to death that one time you claimed to be tracking a frost deer and disappeared for two whole days because you couldn't find your way back from the woods.”

 

Thor rolled his eyes, tightening his hold around Loki's waist. “As I recall, I did catch that deer.” He gave Loki's buttock a squeeze, his smile turning lewd, and Loki, too remembered how the tale continued, the memory of Thor claiming him on the animal's soft pelt by the fire suddenly vivid in his mind, and he allowed Thor to guide him toward the privacy of their bedchamber to make new memories.

 


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki meets Frigga for the first time soon after his arrival in Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksies to Becky for the quick beta! <3 I'll be posting another chapter before I go to bed tonight.

**Fill rating: general audiences. Warnings: none. Words: 4,281.**

 

Loki's head jostled against Thor's shoulder as their carriage hit a small bump in the road and the movement was enough to draw him awake from his rather uncomfortable sleep. He let out a small whine, burrowing against Thor's side, reluctant to open his eyes.

 

“Well, look who's finally awake,” Thor smiled, “you have been snoring against my shoulder since we passed the plains of Iðavöllr.”

 

Loki blinked his eyes open, shooting Thor a vexed look. “I do _not_  snore,” he muttered under his breath.

 

“Oh, but you do,” Thor grinned. “And you are louder than a stampeding bilgesnipe.”

 

Loki was too sleepy to take any serious offense, and he let Thor's good-natured jab slide as he straightened in his seat, taking note of how their surroundings had changed since he fell asleep.

 

"Are we almost there?”

 

“Aye, mother's hall is down in the valley.” Thor pulled on the reins to stop their carriage so Loki could take in the view that spread out before them.

 

The Allmother resided in the lake country some miles west of the Royal Capital. Her hall appeared spacious but simple in its design and there were smaller dwellings built around the rolling hills around it, one for each of her many handmaidens. Their lofty roofs were paved with gold and perched on top of each house was a tiny weather vane, spinning merrily in the cool north wind.

 

The walls in Thor’s study were covered in old maps, and Loki had examined them eagerly since his arrival, his thirst for knowledge about the realms nearly unquenchable. He had spent hours learning the lay of each land, tracing the inky outlines of cities and hamlets with the pads of his fingers while Thor was kept busy by his princely duties. Loki knew there were more than five hundred lakes between Fensalir and the western shores of Asgard. Even the Queen’s own hall was built on a neck of land between two small lakes. Loki shielded his eyes from the bright afternoon sun with his hand as he took in the sparkling blue waters, feeling a little breathless, for most lakes in Jötunheimr were hidden deep beneath the frozen earth.

 

“There are so many of them,” Loki gasped.

 

“Aye,” Thor nodded, amused by Loki's visible awe. He urged the horses to a slow gait and they began to descend into the valley below along a serpentine dirt road. Thor told Loki what he knew of his mother's lands, and how ages ago, before the Queen had claimed the land as her own, the place had been one giant bog. “The largest of ours lakes is called Hvítárvatn, but it is many miles to the west of here,” Thor said as he steered their carriage across the bridge that led to the Queen’s private island. “It is so deep that some believe a great serpent lives somewhere in its dark depths.”

 

“They say it has swallowed many unfortunate fishermen whole, and when it swims near the surface, it gives birth to giant tidal waves with its great backfins.”

 

Loki arched his brows in amused disbelief. “You jest.”

 

“It is no jest! I spent many afternoons as a boy trying to catch it, but a pesky little nix kept stealing my nets.”

 

Loki grinned and used a flick of seiðr to splash Thor with cool lakewater.

 

“Mark my words, Loki!” Thor sputtered, wiping his face dry with the cuff of his sleeve, “one day, I will catch the serpent and toss it right off the edge of the realm by its coiling tail!”

 

When they reached the other end of the bridge, Thor guided their carriage down a narrow road lined with birch trees, their white trunks and golden autumn leaves mirroring the colors of the Queen’s hall. The road led to a small courtyard where two young stable hands stood waiting for them, ready to take care of their horses.

 

Loki climbed out of the carriage and pressed his nose into the high collar of his new tunic to make sure he didn’t reek of horses like some commoner. He arranged his thick, long braid to rest on his right shoulder and straightened the golden torque Thor had given to him on his name day a few weeks ago.

 

“Do I look alright? Should I have worn something else?” Loki knew nothing of Asgardian tea customs, but he knew the importance of first impressions and he worried he might be under-dressed in his black leather jerkin and loose-fitting breeches.

 

“You look fine,” Thor smiled reassuringly. He gave the stable boys a few coins for their trouble and brushed his fingers along the ridged surface of Loki’s horn. “I dare say you could arrive naked and my mother would still serve you tea. She is that eager to meet you.”

 

The Queen’s halls were very bright and welcoming. Loki trailed behind Thor, craning his neck to admire the tall pillars that rose toward the high ceilings, decorated with ornate gold-plated carvings. Each room had a small hearth and handmaidens and nobles alike were gathered around the fires to read and warm their hands from the autumn chill. Colorful leaves danced around their feet on the floors as the breeze from the open windows and archways caressed them with its cool touch. There was a fragrant scent of dried herbs in the air and when Loki looked up, he saw there were dozens of small bouquets of dried flowers and leaves hanging from the rafters above their heads: thyme, chamomile, parsley and thistle and many plants that could never thrive in Jötunheimr’s harsh lands.

 

When they passed by a room decorated with colorful tapestries, Loki became puzzled by the strange wooden contraptions by the tall windows and he pulled on Thor’s sleeve to stop him. He stared at the nearest device and listened to the clanking sound coming from the wooden parts as a young girl seated by it moved them.

 

“What is that?”

 

“It is called a loom,” Thor explained. “Many women in Asgard use them to weave rugs and tapestries. Mother is especially skilled with them.”

 

There were several young girls in the room, working the looms and singing with soft lilting voices as they pulled colorful strings through the weft. The girl on their left turned her eyes to Thor and bowed her head in a show of respect. Loki watched her cheeks turn bright red when Thor flashed her a roguish smile, and he rolled his eyes at the girl’s tittering.

 

As they continued their trek, Loki began to notice that the Queen’s halls were positively full of comely young maidens, all of them blushing in the presence of their Prince. He reached for Thor’s hand to entwine their fingers, and though Thor did not stop smiling and greeting the handmaidens, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss between Loki’s horns, not that Loki was in need of reassurance. Of course he wasn’t.

 

When they arrived to the Queen’s private quarters, Loki did begin to feel a little jittery. He was of royal blood, but he had spent most of his childhood shunned to the shadows while Laufey pretended he only had two sons, and Loki had never quite learned proper courtroom decorum. He grabbed hold of his long braid and squeezed the thick knots with nervous fingers. 

 

“There she is,” Thor grinned, hurrying to the small pavilion before them. “Mother! We’ve arrived.”

 

“Thor, my darling!” The Queen was seated in a wooden swing, her long white spidersilk gown spilling down her legs like wild rapids. She was working on an embroidery, pulling blue yarn through a colorful cloth, but she set her sewings in a small basket as she stood up to greet her son.

 

Loki lingered in the doorway as he watched Thor embrace his mother. He was beginning to feel a little out of place, but the Queen turned her gentle eyes to Loki and chased the feeling away.

 

“Well met, Loki,” she said, and to Loki's surprise, she embraced him just as she had embraced Thor, as if Loki, too, were her own kin. “I'm delighted to finally meet you.”

 

Loki gave a small nod, licking his lips to loosen his dry tongue from the roof of his mouth. “My Queen,” he breathed, bowing so deep that his long plait swung before his face like a pendulum. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance.”

 

The Queen laughed softly, and Loki’s eyes flicked up when he felt the brush of gentle fingers on his cheek.

 

“My dear child, there’s no need for such formalities,” she said. “You may call me Frigga, if you wish.” Loki was surprised to see that Frigga was almost as tall as Thor. Her eyes, too, were as blue as Thor’s and full of knowledge from a time when the Tree was still young. Her honey-colored hair was gathered up in soft braids and she smelt sweet like freshly picked flowers. She pressed the pads of her warm fingers against Loki’s chin and urged him to lift his face. “Now, let me take a look at you.”

 

Loki raised his head, feeling self-conscious. He wondered how many Jötnar the Queen had laid her eyes on, and if Loki would bring shame to his entire race by being nothing but a runt with a broken horn. If Frigga was startled or surprised by the crimson of Loki’s eyes, it did not show on her face. She simply smiled at him, almost as if she knew something about him, a secret she would not share with anyone else.

 

“Oh, yes,” Frigga hummed, “I can see why my son has been so enamored with you all these years,” she smiled. “I’m glad you’re finally here.” Frigga brushed her thumb against Loki’s pointed chin the way Thor often did, “for I have been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.”

 

“You- you have?” Loki asked, bewildered. “But it’s only been three moons since my arrival to Asgard.”

 

“Do you remember when I told you that my mother has the gift of foresight?” Thor said, and Loki noticed he had already taken a seat at the tea table, sampling the scones laid out before him. “Sometimes the Norns allow her to glimpse what they have weaved for our futures," he continued, his cheeks full of pastry. "You have been in her visions many times over the years, but alas, that is all she is willing to share.”

 

“What I divine from the Norns is not for me to reveal, for the future is ever changing and any meddling might result in disaster,” Frigga said almost chidingly, “and there are some things weaved into your paths that I would never forgive myself for altering.” She gestured to the small table where steaming hot tea lay ready and waiting. “Well, shall we have some tea before Thor gobbles all the scones old Gna has prepared for us?”

 

 

They had tea under an old rowan tree, its branches drooping low under heavy clusters of berries. Loki didn’t care much for the tea or other warm beverages, and he filled most of his cup with goat milk, but he did discover a very keen taste for the rhubarb and apple scones. Thor shared his enthusiasm for the baked goods and the plate was empty before they even knew it.

 

“Would you be a dear and fetch us more scones from the kitchens?” Frigga asked from behind the rim of her tea cup, pushing the empty plate towards Thor.

 

Thor appeared a little perplexed by the request. “Is that not a task for one of your handmaidens?” he huffed.

 

“Oh, we won’t bother my dear maidens with such a trivial task.”

 

“We won’t?”

 

“Go on,” Frigga gave her son a look that seemed to hold some hidden meaning that Loki could not decipher, and when Thor glanced at Loki, he, too, gained a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. His cheeks dimpled with a broad smile and he took the empty plate and tucked it under his arm. “Perhaps you could show Loki around in your gardens while I’m gone.”

 

Frigga clapped her slender hands together. “What a wonderful idea.”

 

The reason why Thor was sent to the kitchens was suddenly quite obvious, and Loki glared at Thor, the traitor, for leaving Loki alone here with his mother. There were still so many things Loki did not understand about the customs of this realm and he was certain he’d make a fool of himself in front of the Queen now that Thor wasn’t here to guide Loki with subtle little gestures.

 

Frigga seemed to sense Loki’s growing nervousness. She laid her hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring little squeeze. “Come, there is something I wish to show you.”

 

Loki followed her deeper into the gardens along a narrow path lined by bracken and swirling stalks of twinflowers. Small streams bubbled between mossy rocks a few feet away from the path, and Loki could see the trees and bushes around them were changing into their autumn colors. The bright hues of red, gold and green reminded him of the fleeting summer seasons in Jötunheimr, but he brushed the thought away before it could settle, for there were still days when he felt a strange longing for his old home, even if he had been miserable in his lonely existence.

 

He kept glancing behind his back as the pavilion disappeared from sight, wondering where Frigga was leading him. Loki was not frightened of the Queen, but he was aware that underneath the gentle appearance was a skilled seiðkona and one of the most powerful women in all the realms. Almost unwittingly, Loki thought of Angrboða and the old völva’s skill in dark seiðr and his nervous fingers sought out his braid once more to fiddle with the knots.

 

Frigga glanced at him over her shoulder, her rosy cheeks dimpling as she smiled at Loki. “We have plenty of currants this year,” Frigga remarked, waving at the three young handmaidens who were crouched down by the nearby bushes, plucking red and black berries into their wicker baskets. “Do you like berries, Loki?”

 

Loki let go of his braid and gave an enthusiastic nod. “I do, but they have always been a special treat, for they mostly grew in the southern coast of Jötunheimr and it was quite far from my home.”

 

“Well, I shall be sure to send you and Thor plenty of preserves for the coming winter,” Frigga smiled, and Loki could feel the uneasiness in his heart melt away as quickly as it had appeared.

 

He followed Frigga through a wooden gate and down another path that seemed to lead them to the lake shore.

 

“There’s a lovely little spot right by the water. I like to come here to sit and listen to the Norns as they whisper to me.”

 

Frigga led them to at small pier and they took a seat on the wooden bench that overlooked the blue waters of the lake. There was an old man in a small boat nearby pulling up his fish traps from the reeds, but he paid them no heed, going about his business.

 

They fell into a companionable silence and Loki closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the steady lap of the water and the bird songs coming from the gardens. The air smelled of woodsmoke and wet moss, and Loki felt so completely at ease that he almost forgot he had company.

 

“Tell me, Loki, is Asgard to your liking?” Frigga asked after a while, startling Loki out of his relaxed reverie.

 

“It’s very beautiful,” Loki said politely.

 

Frigga arched one slender brow. “Is that all?” she asked with a tiny smirk on her lips.

 

Loki let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head. “It  _is_  beautiful, but I suppose the sun is a bit too bright for my eyes and the meats are often over-cooked and the fish too salty. And I do not understand why they keep animals in those small pens when you could let them run free and hunt them down when you are hungry. It seems a bit lazy.”

 

“Aye, many of our customs must be strange to you, just as your customs must have been strange to Thor when he first snuck into Jötunheimr,” Frigga smiled. “Our peoples have been separated for such a long time that there are many things we have forgotten about each other.”

 

Loki frowned, for it almost sounded like there had once been a time when Æsir and Jötnar were not at war.

 

A strange air of melancholy seemed to overcome the Queen as she spoke. “You, Loki, are so young that you have only known the realms as they were after the Great War between our peoples.”

 

“It is true that there has never been true peace between Asgard and Jötunheimr, but there once was a time when we did not hate and mistrust each other as we now do.”

 

Loki shook his head, the corners of his mouth twisting down in a bitter frown. “Forgive me, but I find that a bit hard to believe.”

 

Frigga hummed, the look in her eyes wistful as she watched the dragon flies that buzzed above the long reeds in the shallow water. She reached into the pocket of her linen apron and pulled out a neatly folded piece of cloth. She flicked her fingers and Loki was surprised to see the cloth grow in size as Frigga unfolded it with her seiðr, suspending it in the air before their eyes.

 

The cloth was worn with age and frayed at the edges and Loki recognized it to be the embroidery Frigga had been working on when he and Thor first arrived. He leaned closer to admire the beautifully woven patterns, taking in the design of what appeared to be a large ash tree. He thought it might be Yggdrasil, but when he noticed the tiny individuals woven into the cloth, he realized it was a family tree.  _Thor’s family tree_.

 

“It may have been many millennia ago,” Frigga spoke, tracing her fingers along the trunk of the tree, down toward the sturdy roots, “but there once existed a union between the Æsir and the Jötnar within our royal family when Thor’s grandfather, King Borr wed Bestla of Jötunheimr.”

 

Loki’s eyes grew wide as he followed the movement of Frigga’s fingers to a blue-skinned figure seated on the tip of a root next to a large red-bearded warrior. He had heard tales of the fierce Bestla, no doubt twisted by their scalds, for they were dark stories full of blood and betrayal, but Frigga seemed to be smiling as she began to recount the tale of how Thor’s grandparents came to be together.

 

“They were happy for many centuries,” Frigga said and she moved her fingers up along the roots to three striking figures clad in steel and leather. “She gave birth to three children who in time grew up to become some of the wisest beings in all the realms.”

 

The realization that Thor had Jötun blood in him was enough to render Loki speechless, and when he finally found his voice again, he asked, “How come Thor has never mentioned any of this?”

 

“Thor never knew his grandmother, for poor Bestla was slain in the bloody war that raged between the Æsir and Vanir long ago, and her name was erased from our histories after my husband defeated your people in the last Great War. But who knows… perhaps there will come a time when our peoples are once again united and we will have peace.” Frigga was quiet for a while, giving Loki some time to take it all in before moving her fingers up toward the slender branches of the tree, her eyes twinkling as she brushed them against a golden-haired youth, and next to him stood –

 

“Is that- is that _me_?” Loki sputtered as he laid his eyes on the lithe blue figure by Thor's side, the yarn vibrant and freshly sewn.

 

Frigga’s red mouth curved up and she watched Loki with fond eyes. “Aye, it is you, Loki.” She cupped Loki’s face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to the painted whorls on his brow. “Welcome to Asgard, darling.”

 

Loki watched as she folded the cloth with a simple spell and soon it was small enough to fit in the pocket of her apron once more. It was the second time Frigga had used seiðr in front of Loki, and he was suddenly itching to ask her about it, but he did not know how to approach the subject, for he was under the impression that seiðr was not something to revere in Asgard. Indeed, Loki often suspected that the Æsir he’d met were mistrusting of him because of the rumors about his skill with spells, and there were whispers among the servants about the sneaky Jötun witch who had tricked his way into their master’s bed.

 

Frigga appeared to guess Loki’s thoughts. “Thor tells me you are skilled in seiðr.”

Loki could not detect any hint of fear or judgment in her voice, but he hesitated before nodding. “I do have some knowledge of simple spells and enchantments.”

 

Frigga nodded approvingly, and though Loki was certain she must have known how he had gained his knowledge, she made no mention of Angrboða.

 

“I would be happy to teach you more, if you like,” she offered, to Loki’s great surprise.

 

Loki’s face lit up and his red eyes shone with an inner greed before he could compose himself. “I’m grateful for the offer,” he said politely, but he could tell Frigga had glimpsed the greed in his eyes.

 

The smile on the Queen's face did not falter, but Loki could sense a sudden shift in the air between them – a warning. “Dark magic is, of course, forbidden and anyone who is found guilty of using it for ill gain will be punished accordingly,” she said, and nothing about her demeanor was particularly threatening, but Loki felt himself shiver. The feeling passed almost immediately as Frigga continued to tell him of her own skill with seiðr. “My talents lie in divination and healing spells, but I’m sure Lady Freya will be happy to share her vast knowledge of the art of enchantments with you when she returns home from her travels. Poor thing has lost her husband again.”

 

Loki lowered his eyes, hesitating. There was something he’d been wondering since he first got to Asgard. “Are the no men here who practice seiðr?”

 

Frigga’s brow creased in a slight frown. “There are some men who are very skilled in the use of magic. My husband is a powerful seiðmaðr, but magic is rarely used outside of the healing halls." "Not even in battle?" Loki asked, a little perplexed, for he had bested many beasts, including a few direwolves with a well-timed spell. "Most of our warriors tend to favor more traditional ways of doing battle, leaving spells and enchantments to healers and those who are too old to fight.”

 

She was being tactful, but Loki could sense the quiet disapproval hidden in the Queen’s words. He thought of Thor and how at first he, too, had seemed to think Loki’s spells were nothing more than harmless tricks, sometimes convenient but never anything to be feared. It wasn’t until his battle with Angrboða that Thor had realized how powerful magic could be.

 

The wooden pier shook under the weight of heavy steps, and as if summoned by Loki’s thoughts, Thor appeared behind their backs.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” he asked, brushing his fingers against Loki’s horn in a wordless greeting before turning to his mother. “I’m afraid Eir requests my mother’s presence in the healing halls. It seems one of Ragnar’s boys has dislocated his shoulder while sneaking into Iðunn’s orchards.”

 

"Again?" Frigga rolled her eyes, breathing out a long-suffering sigh. “Reminds me of a certain stubborn young prince who kept sneaking into those orchards until he had fallen from an apple tree so many times that nearly all the bones in his body had been broken at least once.”

 

Thor gave his mother an innocent look, and Loki was briefly reminded of the golden apples Thor had brought to him as a gift many years ago. Frigga stood up and straightened her apron, but before she left, she took Loki’s hands in her own and gave them a gentle squeeze.

 

“The doors of my hall are always open for you, Loki.”

 

* * *

 

 

They rode home to Thrúndheimr in the dusky light of the setting sun. The first evening stars were beginning to twinkle in the eastern sky, shining with the light of bygone days. Thor had hung two small lanterns in the poles on the front of the carriage to light their way home as they rode through the quiet dirt road that wound through Sigurd's Forest.

 

“Did you have a good time today?” Thor asked. He reached down between their feet for the bushel of apples and berries Frigga had given to them and took a generous bite of the succulent fruit.

 

“Aye,” Loki smiled. He removed one of his leather gloves and brushed his fingers along Thor’s battle-roughened knuckles, tracing the veins that ran between the tendons of his hand; knowing now that in these veins flowed the blood of his own kin. “Your mother, she made me feel like… like I belong here,” Loki said softly.

 

He conjured a small blade of ice and sank it into a fresh apple. He cut himself a slice and took a bite of it before popping the remaining half in Thor’s mouth, and they shared the apple slice by slice under the red wheels of the harvest moons.

 

 


	4. Berserker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor succumbs to his berserker rage as he and Loki are traveling through Vanaheim and Loki is the one who has to try to bring him out of the madness. This take place sometime between Hammer, Horn and Heart and Of Gods and Monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Becky and Schaudy for the beta and all the suggestions!

**Fill rating: explicit. Warnings: violence, rough, animalistic sex, weird scenting behavior. Words: 5,229.**

 

Thor swallowed down the final drops of the golden ale that swirled on the bottom of his tankard and set the wooden mug down with a loud clang. The sound startled Loki out of his thoughts and he shot Thor a surly look before going back to studying the surface of the strange stone he had picked up from an old Vanir burial mound.

 

They had stumbled upon the place earlier that day when they stopped to feed their horses in the lush woodlands of southern Vanaheim. Thor had seen nothing of interest in the long-forgotten ruins, only dust and mossy rubble, and the tomb had no doubt been robbed many times over the centuries. He had wished to get back on his horse and continue on to lord Heimskur’s famous vineyards, but Loki had somehow managed to turn a quick rest into four hours of rummaging through old jars and half-destroyed scrolls. And in the end, the only thing he had found was the useless slab of stone.

 

Thor rolled his eyes as Loki continued to study his new treasure, his dark brows knotted in concentration as he scratched at the surface with his black nails. He looked up every once in a while to scribble notes on a piece of vellum, and Thor couldn’t imagine what one could possibly learn from a rock. He used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe away the ring of foam the ale had left on his beard and whiskers and let out a small burp, hardly audible over the loud chatter and boisterous laughter in the inn.

 

Thor was still vexingly sober, but the seventh tankard of ale did begin to register in his bladder. He shifted on the narrow bench and reached down to adjust his prick, reluctant to get up to relieve himself, for it was raining buckets outside. The door kept opening and closing as more travelers pushed their way inside to seek shelter from the storm, and the air in the tavern had begun to stink of muddy boots and musty horse hair.

 

Thor yawned, his eyes drooping as he surveyed the crowd. The inn was in the middle of nowhere, the nearest city more than a day's ride away, and the patrons were mostly travelers like Thor and Loki. There wasn’t even a bard or a skald in the place to entertain him with songs and tales. Thor leaned against Loki's shoulder to peer at the stone in his hands, wondering again how a lump of minerals could be so interesting.

 

He did not like to drink alone, and he most certainly thought himself to be better company than a piece of rock.

 

Thor frowned and moved closer to snatch the damn thing from Loki’s hands. “What is so special about this then? It’s kept you from even glancing in my direction all evening.”

 

“It’s a rune stone,” Loki snapped. He pointed at the red patterns carved into the surface of the stone. “There are old spells written on it and I am trying to make sense of them. Now, hand it over.”

 

Thor ignored Loki’s request and brought the stone closer to his face, examining it with one eye. “Runes? It is nothing but dirt,” he snorted.

 

Loki’s brows knitted together in visible annoyance. “You blind oaf! Give it here.” He tried to snatch the stone from Thor's hand, but Thor hid it behind his back, pleased to finally have Loki's full attention on himself. Loki hissed a curse in his native tongue, one that Thor had heard many times before. “Give it here!”

 

“Not until you have a drink with me.”

 

“No.”

 

“ _Why_?” Thor demanded, for he’d had enough of Loki’s neglect.

 

Loki huffed and fixed his gaze on the empty tankards before them. “ _Because_  you are already drinking for the both of us,” he hissed, lowering his voice, “and  _someone_ has to keep their wits about, for I’m certain that even you have noticed that the atmosphere in this place isn’t very welcoming… That lot over there has done nothing but glared daggers at us since we arrived.”

 

Thor followed Loki’s gaze across the room to a group of men huddled over a long table, talking to each other in low, hushed voices. He frowned when he saw two of them glance over their shoulders to fix Loki with a malicious look.

 

Thor shot up to his feet so fast he sent the tankards on their table toppling and rolling down to the floor with a loud clatter. The steady chatter died down as all eyes turned to Thor.

 

“Do you have something to say to us? To me?” Thor demanded, his hand already wrapped around Mjöllnir’s hilt. “Does our presence here offend you?”

 

A heavy silence descended into the room as Thor shifted his glare from table to table, almost hoping someone would give him an excuse to start a small brawl, his blood thrumming with restless energy. The men across the room lowered their heads and turned their eyes away, going back to nursing their drinks.

 

Loki yanked on Thor’s wet cloak to pull him down. “Do you think it is wise to draw even more attention to us?” His voice was flat, almost tired, but Thor felt like he was being scolded. “Just be quiet and drink your ale.”

 

Thor crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the two remaining tankards on the table as Loki went back to ignoring him and studying his rune stone. He had always enjoyed his annual spring trips to one of the Nine Realms, a tradition he had begun with his father when he was but a small boy, but this year's trip was turning out to be one lousy experience. The weather in Vanaheim had been most unwelcoming from the get-go, which left Thor frustrated, for he could have parted the storm clouds with one swing from Mjöllnir. But the Allfather did not permit him to alter natural weather phenomena outside of Asgard unless actual lives were at stake, claiming it was unwise to meddle in the affairs of the neighboring realms, especially if Thor only had personal gain in mind.

 

Both of he and Loki were equally sick of the wet gloom, and in recent days, of each other’s company. Thor was irritable and easy to anger over the smallest of things and Loki's patience ran equally low. They’d had countless arguments over the past few days, and two of their disagreements had turned into actual scuffles which Loki had won since he had no qualms about cheating. Thor shot Loki a sour look as he rubbed his fingers against the bite marks he still bore on his left shoulder. How was he to know there happened to be a small ant hill under Loki's sleeping roll? It had been pitch-dark when he had set up their camp!

 

But even worse than the dreadful weather and their bickering was the unfriendly welcome they had received from the Vanir in nearly every hamlet and city they had visited. It had taken Thor a while to understand what was amiss, for he had always been welcome within the borders of Vanaheim despite the bloody history between their peoples. It wasn’t until an old Vanir innkeeper Thor knew from his past travels had actually had the nerve to deny them a room at his inn that Thor realized the reason he was no longer welcome under the man’s roof was his new traveling companion.

 

Like a fool, he had believed the hostility Loki experienced in Asgard could be fixed with a change of scenery, for the Vanir had not fought a bloody war with Jötunheimr, but it appeared Laufey’s warmongering ways over the millennia had put a permanent stain on the entire race of Jötnar. Thor glanced at Loki, who was once again scribbling on the piece of vellum, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. If Loki was bothered by the foul whispers and looks thrown his way, he hid it well, for he had yet to say anything about the rudeness of their Vanir hosts, but Thor was beginning to suspect his sullen mood may have been a sign of inner turmoil.

 

Thor groaned when he felt his bladder ache with how full it had become, and he knew he had no choice but to go outside and relieve himself.

 

“Do not wander off on your own while I’m gone,” Thor said, his show of worry earning him another scowl from Loki.

 

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

 

“I know you are,” Thor agreed, “it’s not you I’m worried about, but the poor sod that’s foolish enough to anger you.”

 

Loki glanced up from his rune stone, his blue lips curving up at the corners. “Go on, then, take your piss so we can retire. This place is by far the worst of all the hovels you’ve dragged me into…”

 

The rain had turned into mild drizzle when Thor stumbled out through the door to the dark porch, and his spirits lifted a little as he inhaled the fragrant spring air. He made his way to the outhouse, which was located behind the main building, but it appeared someone had fallen asleep in the small coop, their loud snores carrying out through the crescent hole in the door, and Thor was forced to go and relieve himself in the small ditch by the wall of the establishment. There was a pig pen not even ten feet away from him and the air reeked of mud and hog waste. Thor ignored the foul smell and tugged on the lacing of his breeches enough to free his prick. He held it in a loose grip and let out a long sigh as he began to piss.

 

It took a while to empty the contents of seven big tankards, and Thor closed his eyes as he continued to relieve himself, stretching his travel-stiffened shoulders, eager for a soft bed and the warmth of Loki’s embrace. He was threatening to fall asleep on his feet when hushed voices drifting out from the open window behind him caught his attention.

 

“It has to be a child. Njörd’s Jötun bitch is twice the size of that little frostling,” a gruff voice spoke.

 

Thor’s eyes snapped open and he spun around, pissing on his fly as he hurried to tuck himself into his breeches.

 

“It’s a runt,” another, slightly slurring voice replied. “Probably a spy...”

 

“Aye… Whoring his way into the prince’s good graces, just waiting to stab him in his sleep so he can slip away with the Casket.”

 

The window was too high to see inside, but the vein in Thor's temple began to throb with growing anger as he listened in on the conversation, for he knew exactly who these drunken fools were talking about.

 

“I heard that frostling is a witch,” said a third man, the accent in his voice revealing him to be from Alfheimr. “Probably has the idiot son of Odin under a spell.”

 

Thor balled his hand into a fist, his knuckles crunching. How _dare_ these old vultures speak such things?

 

“Do you think the rumors are true?”

 

“Eh?”

 

“Do you think the little runt has a cunt  _and_  a pecker between those long legs?”

 

A strong gust of wind blew through the treetops in the surrounding woods and rain began to fall once more as Thor's fingers found a grip around Mjöllnir's handle. Inside, there was a burst of drunken laughter followed by a disgusted grunt.

 

“Well,” the man from Alfheimr spoke, “I do know the Æsir fuck anything that moves, doesn’t matter what’s between their legs. Like animals they are, mindless in their rutting. It seems Odin’s whelp is no different than the old goat that begat him.”

 

There was more laughter, albeit quiet, for one did not insult the Allfather lightly under Heimdall’s all-seeing gaze.

 

Thor’s skin prickled and his vision began to grow dim around the edges. He’d been itching to find an outlet for his dark mood for days now, holding it in after every new slight and offence they had had to endure, but these old drunks and their foul mouths had finally given him all the excuse he needed.

 

The conversation turned back to Loki, and two of the men decided to make a bet to see if the rumor about the Jötnar’s dual sexes was true. Thor had heard enough. The horizon flashed white with lightning, the weather now mirroring Thor's dark mood. As the eldest son of Odin, he had been born with the blood of the berserk, and though the rage did not come upon him often, it was always sudden and overwhelming in its intensity. Thor tightened his grip around Mjöllnir and dashed around the building, his feet slipping in the mud as he hurried back inside.

 

The men were already gathered around Loki, looming over the table. Loki had his rune stone in his hand and he continued to study it with a bored expression on his face, as if the leering drunks around him were nothing but pesky flies. That all changed when the man on his right reached out to touch the stump of Loki’s severed horn, his thick calloused fingers poking at the knotty bone.

 

Thor saw it from the doorway and his peripheral vision disappeared entirely, his eyes zeroing in on the forbidden touch on Loki's horn. His breaths came out in great heaving pants as the building anger in him pounded in the back of his skull like the beat of a war drum.

 

“Look at this,” the man exclaimed, shaking Loki by his horn, and how _dare_ he touch Loki in such manner! Thor would rip the man's hand off for his offense! “It’s no witch, it’s a goat.”

 

“Baa!” the men laughed, their eyes cruel and mocking. “Do you have milk in your teats, little goat?”

 

Loki snarled at the drunks, and before anyone could react, he had smashed the rune stone into the man's temple so hard it not only made the old drunk relinquish his hold on Loki's horn, but he stumbled back against the nearby table before falling on his arse.

 

“You little helspawn!” the man from Alfheimr bellowed. He picked up one of the tankards on the table and threw the remaining ale at Loki’s face, blinding him momentarily. Thor saw him grab _both_ of Loki’s horns and use them to smash his head against the table. The blow was enough to render Loki unconscious and he slumped against the wall, his head lolling against his chest.

 

The sight of Loki's unconscious body was the final straw. Thor's ears began to ring as his berserker blood boiled in his veins. ” _You will pay for that, elf_ ,” Thor growled. There was a loud clash of thunder right outside of the building and Thor's own roar of anger sent some of the patrons running for the door. The old innkeeper hurried to hide the most expensive bottles in his collection of wine and meads, and he ducked behind the counter just as Mjöllnir burst through the crowded room, smashing through the back wall and leaving a splintered hole in the timber before returning to Thor’s grip.

 

The men around Loki all turned their shocked faces to where Thor was striding towards them, the plank floor trembling under his heavy steps. All of them would pay, for a berserker knew not the meaning of mercy. The old drunk who had been no more than spectator fled through the hole in the wall before Thor could shove his way through the crowd, but the elf who had dared to touch Loki would _not_ escape Thor’s wrath.

 

“Wait..." the man gurgled as Thor’s large hand closed around his neck, crushing his wind pipe.

 

“You dare-" Thor squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to speak, his mind growing unfocused with the white hot rage that pumped through his veins. “You dare… lay a hand… on  _my_   _royal consort_?”

 

Thor's skin crackled with lightning as the primal anger burst out of him and he lifted the slender elf up with one hand until his muddy boots barely touched the floor, feeling the brittle bones and cartilage in the neck buckle and give under his strong grip.

 

The elf’s pointy face had begun to turn purple and his remaining friends were yanking on Thor’s arms, hanging from his bulging bicep and forearm to get him to release his grip. But Thor’s hold was unrelenting, his brain no longer able to comprehend what he was doing as he began to lose his sense of self to the uncontrollable anger and need to destroy  _everything_  in his path.

 

Loki grunted, rubbing his forehead where it had collided with the table. Slowly, his hazy eyes focused on the scene before him and widened in horror when he saw that Thor was about to kill his assailant.

 

“Thor! No!” Loki cried out, not out of pity or fear for the man, but for Thor, for slaying the elf in such a manner would be murder. “You will kill him!”

 

Loki’s familiar voice barely registered through the fog that had descended over Thor’s mind, shrouding his senses in violence and bloodlust. He growled and shook his head to clear his vision, panting for breath as he struggled to force his grip around the man’s neck to loosen, but it wasn’t until he felt the sharp burn of fire on his skin that his fingers unclenched and released their hold.

 

Loki extinguished the fire spell he had directed at Thor when the chocking elf fell on the floor, unconscious and barely able to draw breath.

 

“Thor... Please.”

 

Thor met Loki’s wide, red eyes. The pleading voice briefly penetrated through the haze of anger, and Thor understood that many lives would be lost if he did not leave this place at once. He tightened his grip around Mjöllnir and he rushed out of the inn, disappearing into the low-hanging storm clouds.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki followed the blinding flashes of lightning to a narrow river that slithered between lush green forests in a nearby valley. It was difficult to fly in the storm Thor's anger had summoned upon them and Loki was beyond exhausted. Another gust of wind caught his wings like an invisible hand and Loki struggled to keep to his trajectory as he plummeted several feet. It was another hour before he finally reached the eye of the storm, and he knew he'd find Thor in the middle of it the moment his bird eyes caught sight of the devastation Thor had inflicted upon the land.

 

Several acres of the green forest had been flattened as if a great shower of rocks had hit it from above, felling the trees against the ground as if they were mere twigs. The river Loki had followed was nearly flooding from the heavy rain, and when Loki circled above the area, he could see deep grooves running through the craters that mottled the ground. Thor himself stood on the bottom of one such crater, and Loki watched as he hurled Mjöllnir from his hand with a great bellow. The hammer plowed through the ground, splitting it in half before returning to the hand of its wielder, the marks it left behind like deep wounds.

 

Loki let out a high pitched call, but Thor did not react to the sound in any sentient manner. The reek of ozone in the air was almost suffocating and the clouds above their heads still rumbled menacingly, but Loki noted that the rain no longer fell as hard as before, and he hoped it meant Thor's anger was beginning to subside. He could see Thor was naked, his clothes singed off by his own lightning. He stood in the middle of the crater, his shoulders hunched, steam rising from his naked skin.

 

Loki felt his tiny bird heart beat a little faster when Thor let out a low groan and fell to his knees, worried, that Thor may have hurt himself in the throes of his mindless anger. He had witnessed Thor’s berserkergang only once all those years ago when the rage had saved both their lives from Angrboða’s evil, but Loki did not know the depth of his battlemadness, or if it was even greater when left unsatisfied, for there had been no enemies for Thor to fell.

 

Loki swooped down, shedding his bird form as soon as his feet touched the ground. He kept his distance, well aware that Thor could kill him with one blow if he decided Loki was his enemy.

 

“Thor?”

 

Again, no answer came, but Thor jerked his head up, his unfocused eyes searching for the source of the sound. His skin still crackled with small currents of electricity and his chest heaved with his labored breaths.

 

“Do you know who I am?” Loki asked, moving closer, ready to transform if Thor decided to attack him.

 

Thor snarled, his steaming chest expanding, the bulging veins in his muscles thick like rope. The corners of his mouth were covered in froth and his bristled chin glistened with spittle.

 

“Beloved? Do you recognize me?”

 

Thor finally met his eyes and Loki felt himself shiver when he saw the gaze in them was vacant and almost milky white. Loki hesitated, tempted to throw on his hood and transform, but he stopped when he saw the way Thor began to scent the air.

 

Thor was stalking toward him now, still more beast than a man, but seemingly curious about the new scent in the air. As he climbed up the slope of the crater, the hand around Mjöllnir released its hold and the hammer fell down into the mud with a heavy thud while Thor continued to move closer, sniffing the air. Loki glanced down at his wet feather plumes, afraid the garment might cloak his scent and he hurried to disrobe until he was naked, shivering as he was almost face to face with the berserker in Thor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thor approached the figure before him, understanding it to be the source of the scent, which was familiar and somehow comforting. He could not remember how he knew it, for the fog that shrouded his mind was still too thick to allow him to form any real thoughts, but he was drawn to it on some deeply instinctual level. It was good, and it reminded him of something that was _his_.

 

“Thor,” the figure spoke. “Please, you must come back to me.”

 

The string of words made no sense to him, but the soft lilting accent in the voice was as familiar to Thor as the scent.

 

A slender hand with long blue fingers rose up, wavering in the space between them. Thor grabbed it before it could pull away, wrapping his meaty paw around the frail bones of the wrist, but the frightened sound that erupted in the air made him hesitate.

 

“Thor… please.”

 

Slowly, Thor released his hold, allowing the hand to come closer. Trembling fingers touched his cheek, stroking lightly, but when Thor rushed up, crowding himself against the smaller body, the figure stumbled and they both fell down into the muddy ground. There was another startled cry when Thor pressed his heavy torso against the blue form, attempting to follow the scent to all the places where it was most potent: behind the ears, the crook of a neck, in the fur underneath a trembling arm.

 

“Oh,” the figure gasped, “Now I see...”

 

As Thor continued breathe in the familiar scent, the hands that had been gripping his shoulders in fear were suddenly sinking into his hair to guide his head down.

 

“That’s it. Just a bit more, you’re almost there,” the voice spoke as the hands pushed Thor’s face down along a heaving chest and the flat plains of a belly. Thor’s eyes widened when his nose brushed against coarse black hair, but the touch in his hair did not relent, and the hands continued to guide him lower still until Thor’s face was buried in soft, wet folds.

 

Thor snorted and his nostrils flared as he inhaled the musky smell, so familiar between the slender thighs that his tongue pushed past his lips for a taste. “Lo--ki,” Thor panted, burying his face into the wet cunt. The curtain of madness began to lift, and he was finally able to recognize the trembling figure underneath him. “Loki!”

 

“ _There you are_ ,” Loki gasped, “oh thank the Norns…” He cupped Thor’s sweaty face in his hands and pulled him up to embrace him.

 

Thor blinked, his vision still dim, but he pressed his nose against the long column of Loki’s neck, flicking out his tongue to lap at the beads of sweat he found there.

 

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

 

“N-no…”

 

Thor took another deep inhale, breathing in the scent of Loki's wet skin. The bloodlust had barely begun to lift when another need began to cloud Thor’s mind. His prick filled and hardened where it hung between his muscled thighs, and Loki cried out when Thor pressed down, the thick girth of his erection sliding against the juncture of Loki’s thigh.

 

“Do you… do you wish to mount me?” Loki asked, brushing Thor's wet hair aside with gentle hands.

 

Thor ground down, still unable to form proper sentences, but it appeared to be enough to convey his need. He watched as Loki moved under the shelter of Thor’s hulking frame and turned around to get on his hands and knees.

 

"Alright, you may-"

 

Thor was upon him before Loki had time to say anything else, his engorged prick poking between Loki’s thighs but missing its mark. Thor roared out his frustration and he felt Loki tremble beneath him as the clouds above them crackled with thunder.

 

”Loki...” Thor panted, a plea in his voice.

 

“Here, let me...” Loki reached between his own thighs to take hold of Thor’s erection, guiding it between his slick folds and rocking down with his hips until the swollen head finally slipped through the yielding opening of his cunt.

 

Thor let out a satisfied grunt when he felt himself slide into the warm, tight passage and he began to rut into the hole Loki had willingly offered for him, his pace immediately unrelenting. He draped his chest over Loki’s back, which was arched low and wound tight like a bow, wrapping his large arms around Loki’s narrow chest possessively, fingers groping at peaked nipples and jutting hip bones.

 

Loki whined underneath him, out of pain or pleasure, Thor did not know, only mindful of his own bliss, which continued to grow with each rough thrust into the pliant body underneath him. They both collapsed into the muddy ground, Thor’s weight too great for Loki to support, and Loki began to thrash underneath him, almost as wild as Thor.

 

“Please,” Loki panted, his cheeks splattered with wet mud, “keep going, don’t stop.”

 

Thor shoved his swollen prick into the wet heat over and over again, letting out a grunt of approval when he felt long fingers press against his shaft as Loki tried to keep him from slipping out. His vision was finally starting to clear as the fog in his eyes continued to diminish with the sensation of their bodies coming together in this most primal way.

 

The clouds crackled as Thor was almost ready to spill, his heavy sac drawing up as the slick sounds and the heady smell of their coupling drove him on. The blunt head of his cock dragged against the rim of Loki's hole one more time before he snapped his hips flush against Loki's body.

 

“Inside, Thor," Loki urged. "Mark me.”

 

Thor grunted, gripping Loki’s hips tight enough to bruise as he spilled his seed, his great bellow echoing in the valley. He nuzzled his nose against the ribbed surface of Loki's horn, the first tender gesture since the madness had taken over him. A wave of exhaustion and contentmet washed over Thor and he shivered, suddenly aware of the cold night air.

 

But Loki was not done with him. “Don’t pull out, not yet,” he hissed and he continued to rock under Thor’s body as he chased his own release, fucking himself on Thor’s over-sensitive flesh, his palms sinking into the cold mud.

 

Thor blinked as the haze of pleasure lifted and he became aware of the almost painful sensation around his prick. He howled when the already tight passage around his spent cock began to pulse and clench as Loki found his climax, his cunt still greedy for the seed Thor had already spilled. Thor pulled out as soon as Loki was finished, the reddened flesh of his cock throbbing in the cool air, covered in a thin white film of his own release.

 

Loki rolled onto his back, wiping wet strands of muddy hair from his face, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. He reached up to brush his fingers against Thor's ruddy cheek.

 

“Are you… back?” he asked, giving Thor a wary look.

 

Thor exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. “Yes,” he sighed, burying his face in the crook of Loki’s neck.

 

“Than the Norns.”

 

Thor’s memory of the past few hours was non-existent. He remembered sitting in the inn with Loki and going out for a piss, but after that, it was as if someone had knocked him out cold and there was only darkness.

 

Thor shivered in Loki’s embrace. His skin was covered in cuts and small blisters and every muscle in his body burned with exhaustion. “Did I… hurt anyone?”

 

There was an edge of satisfaction in Loki’s voice when he spoke. “Only those who deserved it.”

 

Loki summoned his feather cloak from where he had left it after undressing and wrapped it over their naked bodies. He murmured a quiet spell and cocooned them inside a protective barrier, the ground beneath them suddenly dry as if they were lying on a soft lawn.

 

Thor rested his head against Loki’s breast, and he let out a content sigh when he felt Loki’s hands begin to trace soothing circles in the valley between Thor’s shoulder blades. “You brought me back,” he murmured. “I recognized your voice.”

 

Loki huffed, but the sound was fond. “You recognized my cunt.”

 

Thor let out a quiet chuckle. “A very important part of you, if I may say so.”

 

“You do seem to favor it. I’m surprised you haven’t named it.”

 

“I can do that,” Thor grinned, his eyes falling closed, and he was already asleep when Loki pressed a kiss to the crown of his blond head inside the safety of their little cocoon.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor returns home from a hunting trip to discover that Loki is in need of some relief...
> 
> This chapter takes place after Thrice Blessed in the main series in which Thor and Loki have their first three children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksies to Becky and Schaudy for the beta! Also, let us pretend that this more myth based Asgard has not heard of breast pumps ;)

**Fill rating: explicit. Warnings: lactation kink, breastfeeding, milking, mentions of past pregnancy. Words: 6192.**

 

**Relief**

Thor was in a most jovial mood as he strode through the tall gates to the courtyard of his hall, an old marching tune rising from his lips with every step. A pair of black eyes followed him from the wooden arch above the gates, and Thor glanced up to give his father’s ravens a merry salute. The birds answered the gesture with identical caws before taking off, disappearing into the green mass of pine-trees that grew around the vast estate.

It was early evening and the courtyard was painted with long shadows as Sol and Mani prepared to greet each other in the horizon. Thor had seen the grey wisps of smoke that rose from the many chimneys and air vents in Bilskirnir’s roofing all the way from the valley, but the smell of freshly baked bread and roasting meats was a welcome surprise. His mouth watered at the thought of a proper meal after eating light travelling supplies and dried meats for a week.

He glanced over his shoulder and clicked his tongue to old Fróði and the horse followed after him in a slow gait. There was a large, dead black-bear strapped to the Friesian’s muscled back, but like his master, Fróði was of sturdy make and his steps were steady as he allowed Thor to lead him to the stables. Thor hurried to tie Fróði’ reins to a wooden pole in front of the water trough before circling around to undo the ropes around the horse’s back, lifting the bear to his own shoulders.

Fróði let out a quiet whinny, its soft muzzle nuzzling at the front of Thor’s jerkin. “There’s a good lad,” Thor murmured, fishing out a few cubes of sugar from his satchel, patting the horse’s sleek flank affectionately.

He set the hulking bear down on the paved ground and reached for the curved war horn on his hip, bringing the instrument to his lips to announce his return to his household. The hollow boom of the horn rang in the courtyard and a moment later, a stable boy and three Einherjar came running out from the small guardhouse.

“Welcome home, my lord,” Áskell greeted, his hands swinging wildly as he wiped at traces of ale from his long red beard. Thor’s mouth curved up in a knowing smile, for he could guess Áskell and his companions had been drinking and gambling inside their little outpost. “Apologies, sire. We would have been here to greet you,” the elderly man panted, his rotund stomach straining against his armour, “but we were not expecting your return for another week at least.”

Thor gave Áskell’s shiny pauldron a light pat. “There’s no need to apologize, my friend. Indeed, I was not set to return yet, but one of our guests from Álfheimr had a little hunting accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Áskell said with polite sympathy, “but I see Ullr’s blessings were upon you.”

Thor glanced at the dead bear at their feet. “Aye, the lands are bountiful with game this year,” he declared happily.

The hunt had been more about foreign relations and politics than it was about leisure, but Thor had enjoyed his time in the woods with Tyr and a small band of elven delegates, the peace and quiet a welcome change to the rather hectic affair his everyday life had become since the birth of the children.

With his father spending more and more time on his travels around the realms, certain duties had begun to fall on Thor’s shoulders, and it was up to Thor to ensure that old peace treaties were respected and no skirmishes broke out on the borders over disagreements about farmland or other minor issues. He had been trained well for his future on the throne, but Thor was aware there were some aspects of ruling that were never going to be his strong suit. He could lead Asgard’s armies to certain victory, his skill in battle unequalled, but the mere thought of long, dreary meetings in stuffy chambers was almost enough to put Thor to sleep, and he had opted to take their elven guests out for a hunt, for there was no law that dictated political meetings  _couldn’t_  take place in the woods.

In the end, there had been little talk of politics, for Thor shared the fair folk’s love for good wine, and even Tyr’s disapproving looks ceased to matter after the first couple of days of  _gallivanting_ , as the grim war god put it. And indeed, most of their time in the woods was spent around the campfire, drinking and making merry. The elves had always been excellent storytellers, but they were also fond of the tales Thor told about his family, for children were as rare among the Ljósálfar as they were among Æsir. Thor relished the opportunity to boast about how little Egíl could already grab the handle of the toy hammer Thor had made for him, and how Birtá and Nilá were the most good-natured babies in all of Asgard, for they never made a fuss about anything.

It was at the end of the first week when they finally set out to do some hunting that Lord Elmir had an accident with his bow. Nothing serious, thank the Norns, but Tyr was angry enough to call off the entire hunt, and Lord Elmir’s claims about the elf wine playing no part in the accident, that Tyr's rear simply happened to share an unfortunate resemblance with the moose they were supposed to hunt rang to deaf ears.

Their guests had lamented the end of the hunt, but they parted in good spirits and Thor was convinced his unconventional plan for the political meeting had been a most excellent idea. Even Tyr for all his misgivings and grumblings could not argue with the results, though he still claimed it was nothing more than fool’s luck that Thor had managed to settle the small dispute over the ample farm land near the border of the realms. Luck or not, Thor was too pleased with himself for the old general’s scoffing to dampen his spirits. All that was missing now was the warm welcome he hoped to receive from Loki upon his return to their chambers.

“We’ll have a mighty feast on the morrow,” Thor announced, kneeling down to run his gloved fingers through the bear’s coarse black fur. “Tell Valtyrr and Siggi to prepare the meat and send for the tanner, for Prince Loki requires a new fur to warm him at night.” The bit about the fur was a lie, but Thor couldn’t very well tell the men the truth about the old fur by the hearth in their bedroom being ruined by vigorous fucking.

“Of- of course, my lord,” Áskell nodded, but Thor took note of the way the men’s faces appeared to pale at the mention of Loki's name. They all bowed their heads and hurried to lift the bear up on their shoulders to carry it away to be skinned.

As Thor watched them go, he wondered briefly if something had happened during his absence. Loki did have a temper around the servants from time to time, and some of the younger maids were fearful of him, but he had never truly abused the power that came with his position. Thor glanced up at Bilskirnir’s many windows and an ill feeling settled into the pit of his stomach when he saw that all the windows of their private quarters were shuttered.

He removed his bow and quiver and left the rest of his hunting gear with the stable boy, his good mood threatening to disappear as he hurried across the courtyard. There were two young servants waiting for him at the front doors, and Thor stopped long enough to allow them to remove his gloves, bracers and cape, the hem brown with mud.

“So good of you to return, my lord,” one of the servants said, relief audible in her voice.

“You have been gravely missed.”

“Is everything alright?” Thor asked, now truly ill at ease. “Has something happened in my absence?”

The servants exchanged a nervous look and turned their eyes to the wide set of stairs behind them that led up to Thor’s private quarters.

“It’s Prince Loki, sire. He-“

The mere mention of Loki’s name was enough to get Thor moving and he pushed past the servants, his hand squeezing around Mjöllnir’s hilt as he ran up the stairs. Guards kept vigil at their usual posts, and nothing appeared to be amiss, but Thor could hear loud wailing from the upper floors and he quickened his steps, nearly colliding with matron Katla in his hurry to reach their chambers.

“Begging your pardon, master Thor,” the old woman panted, her face barely visible behind the pile of dirty laundry she carried in her arms, “but these need washing or your children will have no more clean nappies to wear.”

Thor was puzzled by the amount of dirty laundry, but Katla had disappeared into the servant’s staircase before he could ask her about it and he spun on his heels when the sound of crying grew suddenly louder. There was no doubt that it was coming from their private quarters, and Thor ran down the remaining length of the corridor, his grip on Mjöllnir tightening.

The heavy door to their chambers nearly fell off its hinges from the force of Thor’s pull, and he paused at the doorstep to take in the messy state of the room. There were several days’ worth of trays full of dirty dishes on the coffee table and on the floor by the door, and heaps of clothes and nursing blankets were thrown around haphazardly on various surfaces. Toys and storybooks lay forgotten on the sofa and the soft goat skins their children liked to lie on, and one of their golden rattles tinkled at Thor’s feet as Thor nudged it with the tip of his boot.

In the middle of the room stood Loki, dressed in nothing but a wrinkled nightshirt and a flimsy linen dressing robe. His tangled hair was wrapped around his horns and he appeared to be missing one of his slippers.

“Loki? Are you alright? The servants, they said… I feared-“

Loki spun around, shooting Thor a withering glare. “It’s about time you showed up!” he snarled, and Thor saw he was holding Birtá in one arm and Nilá in the other. Both babies were crying, nay, _screaming_ , their little round faces nearly purple.

Before Thor even knew it, Loki had crossed the room and Thor was holding both crying babies in his arms. He cradled them gently against his broad chest, doing his best to ignore the volume of their cries as he gaped at Loki.

“Is something wrong?”

“ _Is something wrong_?” Loki shrieked. His plum-coloured lips pulled back to reveal sharp little fangs, and Thor knew he was truly upset. “Are you blind or deaf? Can you not see that  _everything_ is wrong!?” Loki began to pace, motioning wildly at the mess around them. “Everything’s gone to Hel from the moment you left on your bloody hunt, leaving me  _alone_ -“

“That is unfair, Loki. You know the hunt was not about leisure. I did not even wish to go-“

“Oh, don’t give me that. I know what those pointy-eared little  _förkúr_ are like,” Loki interrupted, the Jötunn curse rolling from his tongue like bile. He moved closer until he was face to face with Thor, and his red eyes flashed with anger as he took a deep inhale. “I can still smell their blasted berry wine on your breath!”

Thor felt his ears prickle and he knew he was blushing. “Well, I admit that there  _may_ have been some drinking involved, but we  _did_ discuss the matter of the land dispute,” Thor said in an attempt to save face, though it did little to erase the feeling of guilt that had appeared at the back of his mind like a burning brand. Loki continued to pace around the room, picking up toys and blankets at random as he pretended to ignore Thor's explanations.

Thor followed after him and he had to raise his voice to be heard over Nilá’s loud wails. “And we agreed to lower the tax on–“ The rest of Thor’s sentence caught in his throat, for Loki was suddenly reaching for his chest, the toys in his hands falling with a clatter. A quiet moan escaped his lips as his face twisted in visible pain.

“Loki? Are you alright?”

Loki shot Thor a poisonous glare, his cheeks flushed purple with what appeared to be embarrassment, and Thor watched as he tugged on his robe to pull it over his chest.

“I’m fine,” Loki hissed, but Thor heard the poorly masked pain in his voice as he squeezed at the lapels of his robe. There were unshed tears brimming in his tired eyes as he turned to look at the crying babies in Thor’s arms. “These two have refused to eat or sleep for days. All they do is scream at me…”

Nilá and Birtá continued to cry despite the gentle rocking of Thor’s arms, their little hands swatting wildly at air, and Thor could not figure out what had them so upset. He raised his gaze from the children when a sudden movement on the other side of the room caught his eyes and he saw their young nursemaid peeking out from the nursery door with Egíl in her arms.

“My lords?” Hildegard called, her voice as timid as her posture. She had not been in their service for long and Loki was in the habit of putting the poor girl through the wringer at least once a day if his nerves were on edge. “Egíl is in need of changing again.”

“Of course he is,” Loki sighed. The ire in his eyes was beginning to dim under bone-deep exhaustion and seeing how truly weary he looked, Thor wondered if Loki had slept at all in his absence. “There’s something wrong with his stomach and we’ve all but run out of clean nappies.” Loki lowered his face and covered his eyes with his hand, his fingers trembling before balling into a fist. “I-I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

Thor’s heart ached at the sight, but he couldn’t offer Loki the comfort of his touch with the crying children in his arms.

“Loki, it’s alright, I’m home now. We’ll send word to my mother and… uh-“ Thor’s eyes fell to Loki’s chest when he noticed the two wet spots spreading through the thin linen cloth of his robe. Loki caught the surprise on Thor’s face and his eyes widened in horror as he realized his predicament was visible to everyone in the room. Hildegard had the decency and good sense to look away, but the flush on Loki’s face deepened as he attempted to cover the stains with his hands before storming into their bedchamber.

 

Thor was left standing in the middle of a small domestic chaos, and the warm welcome he had hoped to receive in Loki’s arms vanished as his ears continued to ring with Birtá and Nilá’s cries.

“There, there, little ones,” Thor murmured, rocking his children in his arms. “Your father is home now, it’s alright.” The babies hiccupped and snuffled between their cries, but they didn’t appear to be soothed by Thor’s cooing, and he turned to look pleadingly at Hildegard, hoping she might have some answers. “Good Hildegard, tell me, what in Ymir’s name happened here while I was gone?”

The girl glanced at the door Loki had banged shut in his wake before stepping forward, cradling little Egíl against her bosom gently. “My lord, I-I believe Nilá and Birtá are teething.” She glanced down at Egíl who suckled his own fingers, oblivious to his siblings’ loud cries. “And Egíl has a common cold of the stomach. There is plenty of dirty laundry to wash, but matron Katla doesn’t think it’s anything serious.”

Thor glanced around, taking in the sight of the dirty dishes and the piles of clothes left lying around. “Why has no one lent a hand to Prince Loki in my absence?” he asked, his temper threatening to rise, for it was obvious the servants had neglected their duties. Hildegard lowered her eyes in what appeared to be a mixture of fear and shame. “It’s alright, Hildegard, you can tell me,” Thor said, softening his voice.

“Prince Loki, he- he has not allowed anyone to help him,” the nursemaid said, her tiny voice barely audible. “No one has been allowed to enter your rooms until this morning when little Egíl finally ran out of clean nappies. The page was told to leave master Loki’s meals at the door step, but that was all.”

Thor let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. There was no doubt in his mind that the girl was telling the truth, for it was just like Loki to refuse help just to show that he did not need it. Thor was often frustrated by Loki’s stubborn streak, but he did not hold it against him, for he knew Loki had spent most of his life alone, shunned by his family and fighting to stay alive in a realm that had no pity for the weak. Thor’s stomach rolled as he remembered how angry Loki had been when Thor had told him of the hunting trip, for it was still too early for Loki to accompany him and leave their children behind. He also remembered how quickly that anger had turned to defiance when Thor had worried Loki might not be able to handle all three children on his own.

_Oh Loki._

They had plenty of help available, but three infants were a handful, to put it lightly. Thor had tried to convince Loki to get a wet nurse, but Loki had refused, almost offended by the idea of allowing someone else to nurse his children. The babies had inherited their parents’ ravenous appetites, and all three children were constantly hungry and in need of attention. Loki had barely left the nursery for the first few months, and Thor could not recall the last time either of them had gotten a good night’s sleep, for he did not have the heart to remain in bed if Loki was forced to get up to feed the children. He usually stumbled into the nursery after Loki with his eyes half closed to sing and read to the babies as Loki took turns to nurse them.

Birtá and Nilá were finally beginning to quiet down in Thor’s arms, their swollen little eyes drooping closed. Thor joined Hildegard in the nursery and set both babes in their cradles, breathing out a sigh of relief as they fell asleep almost immediately, their little bodies exhausted from the crying. He bent down to kiss the crown of Egíl’s golden head, brushing his thumb gently against his son’s blue cheek.

“Have the servants clean the rooms and send word to my mother to join us for a few days. She will have a cure for Egíl’s stomach and help you look after the children while Loki gets some rest.”

“A-are you certain, my lord?” Hildegard stammered, afraid to go against Loki’s wishes.

“Aye, my mother will be happy to help. It’s going to be alright now,” Thor assured, giving the girl’s wheat-coloured head a soft pat.

**

Thor knew he ought to bathe and change his clothes to rid himself of the smell of horses and wood smoke, but he had to see how Loki was doing on the other side of the closed door of their bedroom. He gave a light knock and opened the door quietly, peering in through the narrow gap.

Loki was seated on their four-poster bed, half of the furs and linens spilling to the floor. His face was turned away, but Thor could tell by the shaking of his shoulders that he was weeping quietly in the dim light of a lone lamp on the bedside table.

“Loki? May I come in?” There was no answer, and Thor took it to mean he could enter. He closed the door behind him and crossed the room, opening the shutters in the tall windows before taking a seat on the bed beside Loki. “Are you alright?”

Loki shook his head and sniffled quietly. “I’m so tired, Thor,” he choked out, and Thor’s throat felt tight when he saw the traces of half-dried tears staining Loki’s blue cheeks. “I don’t know what I did wrong. I was certain I could manage by myself for even just a few days…”

Thor wrapped his arm gently around Loki’s shoulder, and to his surprise, Loki leaned into the embrace, burrowing against Thor’s hunting leathers.

“I could not stop their crying and I’ve barely managed to feed them,” Loki sobbed. His voice was laced with shame, and Thor’s heart ached, for Loki had no reason to be ashamed.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Loki,” Thor murmured. “Hildegard believes the children are beginning to grow their first teeth. It is painful so they cry. It might also be the reason why they have refused to eat.” He untangled some of the locks that had twisted around Loki's horns and gave the stump a gentle rub. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to help you.”

Loki leaned back from the embrace and stared at Thor with unblinking eyes. “ _They are teething_?” A small, relieved burst of laughter bubbled from his lips and he shook his head in disbelief.

“Aye,” Thor smiled softly. “The timing is unfortunate, but it is nothing serious.”

“I’m a fool,” Loki groaned, though his eyes shone with relief. He sagged against Thor’s shoulder, his laughter bordering on hysterical as the stress of the past week lifted from his shoulders.

“You are no fool,” Thor huffed. He took Loki’s hand in his and traced the long scar of brotherhood that ran across the palm, his voice a touch more serious as he continued. “But you must remember that it is alright to ask for help sometimes. You cannot do everything by yourself.”

“I will _not_ take a wet nurse,” Loki said, leaning away from Thor, his eyes as stubborn as they had been the last time the topic had come up.

“Fine, but you must allow the servants to do their duties. And my mother will be happy to watch the children for us from time to time. I don’t know about you, but I could certainly use some time just for ourselves every once in a while.”

Loki worried his bottom lip between his teeth, but Thor knew he had made his point. “Oh, fine,” Loki finally sighed, too exhausted to prolong the discussion with futile arguing. He met Thor’s eyes, the look on his face apologetic. “I’m… I’m sorry I yelled at you. I realize you are home early.” He gave Thor a curious look. “Did something happen?”

Thor shook his head, deciding to leave the tale about the hunt for another time. He pulled Loki into his arms to capture his lips in a kiss. “I simply missed you and the children too much to stay away,” he grinned, nuzzling at Loki’s cheek. Loki let out a quiet huff and Thor could picture the way he must have rolled his eyes, but he knew Loki was pleased to hear Thor could not be parted from him.

He brushed Loki’s unwashed hair behind his ears and traced his thumbs along the heavy bags that rimmed his tired eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know… I suppose, before you left,” Loki sighed. “I’ve been awake for so long that I doubt I could fall asleep even if I tried.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because I happen to know an excellent cure for insomnia,” Thor murmured, his lips tracing the shell of Loki’s left ear.

“Thor, wait…” Loki gasped, and he raised his hands up to push Thor away.

Thor leaned back, puzzled by the sudden refusal, but his eyes widened as he remembered the reason Loki had fled from the room earlier. He noticed Loki had removed the dressing robe, but as Thor glanced down, he saw the front of Loki’s tunic was stained wet with milk. “Is it...? Are you too full again?”

Loki nodded, and he brought his hand up to cup his left breast through the wet cloth of his tunic. “I have not been able to feed the children all day. I feel as if I’m going to burst.”

Thor gave Loki a reassuring nod that conveyed his desire to help without having to make the situation more awkward for Loki by making him voice his needs. Thor suspected there were ways to deal with excess milk with the aid of seiðr, but it was Thor who had come up with an alternative solution, one that he himself greatly enjoyed. He took Loki’s hand to lead him toward the lush armchair by the fireplace, taking a seat while Loki flicked his fingers to light a fire in the hearth.

“Come here,” Thor murmured. He leaned back against the soft cushions and parted his thighs to allow Loki to climb into his lap.

Thor waited until Loki was as comfortable as possible before reaching up to undo the laces of the burgundy nightshirt, and as he took in the size of it, he realized it was one of his. The front of the garment was so wet with freshly spilled stains that it clung to Loki’s skin, and he let out a quiet sigh as Thor parted the cloth, revealing his small milk-laden breasts. Thor couldn’t help the jolt of arousal as he eyed the white drops beading at the nipples like small pearls, but Loki’s pained gasp was enough to temper his lust, and as the flames in the hearth grew brighter, Thor saw that both breasts appeared swollen and flushed a darker shade of blue than the surrounding skin.

Loki glanced down at his chest before turning his eyes to the burning logs, embarrassed by what they were about to do, his mouth twisting into a sour line. “It’s alright,” Thor whispered. He raised his hand to cup Loki’s pointed chin and planted a soft peck on the corner of his pursed mouth. “Let me take care of you.”

Loki turned his face to meet Thor’s eyes and they watched each other for a moment, until Loki finally gave a small nod. “But you must promise to be careful. I’m so sore…” 

“I promise,” Thor nodded.

He lowered his hand to cup Loki’s left breast as gently as he could, but Loki still let out a small cry at the contact, his skin too sensitive for even the lightest touch. Thor felt the heat of Loki’s breast against the palm of his hand, and he noticed the small mound was almost unnaturally hard. He attempted to massage the breast tentatively, but the moment the pads of his fingers pressed into the tight skin, there was a burst of milk from the pointed nipple.

  
Loki trembled in his arms, his chest rising and falling rapidly as sweat beaded on his brow. His arms shot up to push Thor away, but Thor took a gentle hold of his shoulders to keep him still as he hurried to seal his lips around the leaking nipple. Loki’s fingers clawed at Thor’s forearms and he bit his lip to keep from crying out as Thor began to drink down the milk from the left breast. Quiet whimpers escaped his mouth, but little by little, the hold on Thor’s arms relaxed and Loki’s whole body began to curl towards Thor’s suckling mouth as he began to feel the first signs of relief.

Thor had not even touched the right breast, but it, too, began to leak, a trail of warm milk running down the long lines of Loki’s body and disappearing under the burgundy nightshirt. Thor drew back to catch his breath and when he finally cupped the neglected breast in his hand, more milk burst out, spraying against his jerkin.

“I’m sorry-” Loki panted, but Thor silenced him with a soft kiss to show that there was no need for apologies.

And once the pain of fullness began to subside, it did not take long for Loki to get over the initial embarrassment. Thor continued to massage the ache away and he drank down the rich, sweet milk, trying to give both breasts equal attention, but Loki was so full that Thor barely had time to swallow before more warm milk filled his mouth and there was a constant wet trickle of white running down his neck where it escaped his lips.

“Are you still in pain?” he asked as he leaned back to dry his mouth.

“No, the ache is almost gone,” Loki sighed, his face growing lax with visible relief. He ran his fingers through Thor’s loosely braided hair as Thor continued to massage the tiny mounds, almost full from all the milk he had drawn from Loki. He caressed the pointed nipples with his lips and tongue as the flow of milk finally began to subside, and when Loki no longer yielded more than small trickles, Thor released his breasts with a satisfied groan.

“Thank you,” Loki murmured, cupping his chest. “They’re still a bit tender, but the pain is gone.” He wiped a few errand drops of milk from Thor’s beard with his thumb and slipped the finger into his own mouth to lick it clean.

Thor watched him with darkening eyes, the corners of his mouth dimpling. It had been a while since they had been this intimate, for most nights the need to sleep had won over the need to rut. Milking Loki dry may not have been about pleasure, but Thor was half-hard in his breeches, his cock pressing against Loki’s buttocks and he knew there was no hiding it.

Loki’s brows rose toward his hairline as Thor rocked his hips up. “Thor…”

“What?” Thor grinned sheepishly, feigning innocence.

“You’re incorrigible,” Loki admonished softly.

“Am I, now?” The grin on Thor’s mouth grew lewd as he slipped his hands underneath Loki’s nightshirt where it was bunched around his waist, and the way it had slipped down Loki’s shoulders sent another wave of arousal straight to his groin. He leaned in to lay a trail of kisses on the exposed skin, splaying his fingers over the soft mound of Loki’s belly, the skin below his navel still a little loose and marred with fading scars. Thor traced them with his fingers before questing lower, and his nostril’s flared as he let his hand drop between Loki’s thighs. He could feel the heat of Loki’s cunt against his palm through the thin material of his smallclothes, and he was about to lean in for another kiss but he discovered he couldn’t move, for there was a firm hand pressed against his chest, keeping him at bay.

"Don't even think about it. You are  _filthy_ ,” Loki groaned.

“It didn’t bother you before…”

Loki wrinkled his nose and gave Thor’s chest a small shove. “It appears I was in too much pain to realize you reek like a carcass.”

“It’s not me, it’s the bear I felled,” Thor said innocently. Loki rolled his eyes and attempted to climb out of Thor’s lap, letting out an indignant squeal when Thor wrapped his arms around him and held him close to his chest.

  
“You brute! Let me go at once,” Loki hissed, clawing at Thor’s shoulders and struggling to get out of his embrace like an angered cat. “I will not do this before you have bathe-eeed.” His objections faltered when Thor slipped his hand back beneath Loki’s smallclothes, two thick fingers sliding between the plump folds of his cunt.

“You  _like it_  when I’m filthy,” Thor grunted, his eyes twinkling with the arrogance of a lusty youth as he slipped his fingers in and out of Loki’s quim. “See? You’re sopping wet for me…” He pulled the fingers out and held them before their eyes before licking them clean and slipping his hand back between Loki's thighs.

Loki’s mouth fell open, but he found himself unable to protest, his eyes rolling back as his hips gave an involuntary thrust against Thor’s palm. Thor used the opportunity to lower Loki’s smallclothes enough to expose his ass.

“Thor… The children-“

“Are finally asleep and my mother will be with them shortly, don’t worry.” Thor gave Loki’s ass a light slap. “Now, lift yourself up for me so I can fuck you with more than my fingers,” he ordered, his voice a heated whisper in Loki’s ear.

Loki let out a stuttering breath and he did as he was told, arching his back to give Thor better access. Thor grabbed hold of Loki’s left buttock to hold him open as he reached into his own breeches and drew his cock out, rolling back the foreskin to reveal the bulbous head and running it along the seam of Loki’s cunt before pushing inside.

The chair and the position they were in did not leave much room for movement, but it had been ages since they had felt each other’s touch so intimately, and Thor was happy to simply rut into Loki’s wet heat. “Norns, how I’ve missed this,” he panted, throwing his head back against the cushions.

“So have I,” Loki moaned quietly as Thor slid almost all the way out before pushing back in again.

Thor’s hands roamed on Loki’s thighs and hips, the softness that lingered there increasing his lust, reminding him of Loki’s fertility. His cock gave an eager twitch at the thought of filling Loki’s belly with another child and watching him grow full with it, but he knew it wouldn't be possible for at least a few decades.

Thor felt the hard line of Loki’s cock where it pressed against his belly, trapped in the bundle of smallclothes, but finding a way for his hand to reach inside would have taken too long, and Thor simply grabbed Loki through the thin fabric, wrapping his hand around Loki’s cock in a loose fist. He could not resist lowering his other hand between Loki’s thighs to feel where they were connected, to trace the rim of Loki’s passage with his fingers. He knew there was no guarantee that Loki’s body would go back to the way it had been before the pregnancy, and every child Loki would bear in the future would most likely leave a mark on him, but Thor barely felt a difference, his cock large enough to fill Loki as well as before. Still, he couldn’t resist slicking two of his fingers between Loki’s folds and rubbing them around the rim of his passage before sliding them in alongside his cock. Such a thing had been a challenge before and Thor never tried it until Loki was truly fucked-out, but the fingers slid in with almost no resistance and Thor let out a groan at the added tightness, his eyes rolling back in his head. “It’s not too much, is it?” he asked when he felt Loki jolt in his arms.

"No..." Loki shook his head, sinking his hands into Thor’s unraveling plait, his lips warm against Thor’s, their breaths mingling. “But can you…”

“Yes?”

“Can you touch my horn?”

Thor grinned and reached up with his left hand to wrap his thick fingers around Loki’s severed horn, stroking the blunt head with his thumb. Loki pushed his forehead into Thor’s touch like one of the stable cats, and Thor moved his hand along the hard, ribbed surface of the horn, scratching the narrow seams with his fingernails.

The tightness around him became almost too much when Loki spilled a moment later, his cock pulsing in the confines of his smallclothes, a spot of wetness seeping into the fabric. Thor leaned in to swallow Loki’s moans with a kiss as his second orgasm rolled through him almost immediately, and he had to remove his fingers from Loki’s cunt as it pulsed around him, wetness seeping down his own heavy sac.

Loki lay limply in his arms, his eyes glazed over and Thor let him catch his breath, brushing aside a lock of hair from Loki’s sweaty brow. "May I finish?"

“Mmmh,” Loki nodded, twining his arms around Thor’s shoulders.

Thor took hold of his hips once more and continued to thrust into Loki's cunt, and he kept going even after he had released deep inside the warm passage, his seed trickling out around his prick. He closed his eyes, humming contently, his lust sated and Loki’s weight against his chest a comforting reminder that he was home.

Loki was half asleep in Thor’s arms, but he raised his hand to give Thor’s shoulder a half-hearted shove. “Now both of us need a bath,” he muttered.

Thor gave Loki’s naked ass a playful slap. “Care to join me?”

 


End file.
